


meet me in the room where the kisses ain't free

by freefallvertigo



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Breathplay, Character Development, Childhood Trauma, Denial of Feelings, F/F, Fluff, Oral Sex, References to Depression, Strap-Ons, Top!Yaz, basically thirteen is a HUGE fucking simp for yaz, it started out as a joke how did it end up like this (it was only a joke), rich!13, right here we go with these tags, stripper!yaz, sugars to lovers, there’s plot now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 236,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24631327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freefallvertigo/pseuds/freefallvertigo
Summary: "And who are you, when you're not on stage?"Yaz smiled. "You couldn't handle a woman like me, babe."
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 280
Kudos: 437





	1. don't do it like a gentleman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [timelxrd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelxrd/gifts).



> right. this sounds like a crack premise and i suppose it is and i suppose that's what it started as but given that i wrote a 17k fic in three days i'm gonna go ahead and admit that i treated this very seriously and u know what maybe u should, too. 
> 
> also fuck u if u think i should have split this up into smaller parts just take it back in one harsh slug like a real one 
> 
> now enjoy watching thirteen simp like a motherfucker for miss yasmin "you couldn't handle a woman like me, babe" khan x
> 
> title from 'kiss land' by the weeknd

“Wait, wh — okay, nope. _Definitely_ not goin’ in there.”

“Ah, come on, JJ. What’s a little lap dance between total strangers?” ribbed Jack with a roguish smile, nudging JJ’s side with his elbow. “Come on, it’ll be a riot. Cross my heart.”

JJ frowned up at the glowing neon sign above the door. ‘ _The Blue Box_ ’, it read, in between a graphic of two long legs bent at either side. A man in his late fifties, at least, stumbled out of the door with a sloppy smile plastered onto his pasty face. She scrunched her face up in distaste. 

“What happened to a few quiet drinks after work?” she asked, adjusting the knot of the tie around her neck. “Not exactly dressed for a night on the town. And this—” JJ scoffed— “this is definitely not what I thought y’had in mind.”

“You need to loosen up a little! All you do is work and work and work — I can see the stress vein in your forehead from here.” Jack squinted at her. “Seriously, is that normal? Might wanna get that looked at.” 

“Get off it,” grumbled JJ, though she couldn’t deny the truth of his accusation. Work had been taking a toll on her lately, and she hadn’t allowed herself much time to indulge in hedonism or even the more simpler pleasures life had to offer. But this? This had never been her idea of a good time. “I can’t go in here. It’s revolting! It’s — it’s disrespectful to objectify people like this.” 

“These dancers make their living — feed their kids — with the bills we tuck into their panties,” argued Jack reasonably. “Wouldn’t it be more disrespectful to _not_ objectify them? Think of the kids, JJ.”

JJ struggled to come up with a valid counterargument fast enough. Before she could do anything about it, Jack was shaking hands with the bouncer and heading in past the red rope. Throwing her head back with an exasperated groan, JJ was left with no choice but to follow her friend into the club. 

Friday night and the place was heaving. 

As was par for the course with a name like ‘ _The Blue Box_ ’, electric blue strip lights lined the stages and the bar and doused the place in an atmosphere of thrill. Loud music of the R&B persuasion accompanied the dancers, of which there was one — sometimes two — on every stage. Half naked, they performed impressive acrobatics with the use of naught but a pole and their own hard earned skill. Around every dancer was a crowd of ogling, slack-jawed onlookers. Mostly, men. The better the dancer, the thicker the crowd; the larger the stack of notes at their feet and tucked into their lingerie. 

Jack was about to make a beeline for a front centre seat at one of the stages, until JJ grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to a dimly lit booth in the corner. Just because she was here, that didn’t mean she was going to enjoy it. 

As expected, Jack got very into it. He chatted up the dancers, the bartenders, the customers; even the bouncers. JJ envied the ease with which he adapted to any and all environments. While he flirted effortlessly, JJ was consistently fending off advances from both dancers after her lap and patrons after a sleazy hookup. Still, she felt a little guilty about the former given Jack’s earlier comment and wouldn’t send them away without a tip — which Jack found hilarious. 

JJ was standing at the bar a short while later, waiting for the bartender to mix their drinks, when she turned around to idly survey the room. Thus far, she’d successfully managed to keep her eyes trained on basically anything except the dancers. 

But then she saw her.

First, it was the crowd that grabbed her attention. It was one of the biggest she’d seen all night. Her stage was blanketed in notes and she seemed not to even notice, which JJ did realise was all part of the act. She wondered if her irrefutable confidence was an act, too. It must have taken a lot to walk out on stage wearing nothing but lacy lingerie and a silk kimono. But with a figure like hers, all perfect curves and toned muscles draped in a slip of flawless skin, JJ figured confidence mustn’t have been too hard to come by. 

Powerful brown thighs curled around the pole and then, with a core strength JJ found impossible to believe, the dancer suspended herself from the pole without the use of her hands and leaned backwards until she was upside down. The crowd might well have thrown their wallets at her for how generously they responded. 

Smiling her gratitude, the dancer gracefully swivelled around the pole and set her stilettos down on the stage once more. She teased the patrons — ruffled their hair and stroked their cheeks and leaned in as if to kiss them only to pull away at the last second — and JJ couldn’t tear her eyes off her. 

JJ felt a hand on her shoulder and started. Jack had sidled up beside her and she hadn’t even noticed for how entranced she’d been. Jack had a lipstick stain on his face and his suit was far more thoroughly dishevelled than last she’d seen it. She hadn’t even left him alone for five minutes. 

“See something you like?” he teased, following JJ’s eyes to the very same dancer she’d been taken by. 

“She, uh, she has a really lovely smile,” mumbled JJ, turning away and handing her cash to the bartender as he slid over their cocktails.

Beside her, Jack cracked up. “A lovely smile? Oh, JJ…” He shook his head affectionately. “You’re fooling no one, sweetheart. I can probably list thirteen things you noticed _way_ before her smile in the time it takes you to come up with another lie.” 

“Piss off and take your bloody drink,” scolded JJ, shoving Jack’s martini into his chest and narrowly avoiding spilling it down his shirt. Though she tried to resist, she spared one more glance over her shoulder at the dancer. For a minute, through the lights and the crowd and the lingering smoke from a machine that had since been switched off, she could have sworn their eyes met. Fluidly, the dancer moved around the pole, and she didn’t look away. JJ didn’t either. 

At least, not until Jack’s voice in her ear had her nigh on jumping out of her skin. “I think she likes you,” he drawled. 

When JJ looked back, the dancer was no longer watching her.

* * *

A few rounds deeper into the night, JJ was back at her booth and the alcohol was finally starting to work. Opposite her, Jack was sandwiched between a dancer and a young man he’d stolen away from a bachelor party. JJ couldn’t be sure he wasn’t the groom. Still, she was just tipsy enough not to care. 

Not tipsy enough, however, to keep from jolting when two hands descended gently upon her shoulders and a cascade of dark, curly tresses tumbled against her cheek. JJ turned to find the dancer she’d been so enamoured with leaning over her with a coquettish smile playing over her lips — the likes of which turned her insides to butter.

“Hey,” purred the dancer, fingers working clemently against the muscles in JJ’s shoulders. 

“Oh, hi. Hello,” stammered JJ, going rigid beneath her touch. “Um. How are you?” she asked in a strained voice, resisting the urge to smack herself in the forehead as soon as the words left her lips.

_How are you? Idiot_.

Except the dancer only smiled wider, teeth brilliant white in the low lights. JJ’s heart stumbled over itself. “Want a dance?” she asked, rounding to the front of the seat and toying with JJ’s tie. 

“Um, nah, I—”

_“Absolutely,_ she does!” Jack answered on her behalf, shooting JJ a self-satisfied wink when she glared at him around the dancer.

“Shy?” The dancer leaned over JJ, lips dusting the metal cuff of her ear when she spoke next. “Promise I’ll go easy on you,” she sang softly, still twirling her tie between her fingers. 

JJ cleared her throat, leaning her head back minutely to meet a pair of rich, black eyes she found all too easy to fall into. Somewhat emboldened by the assistance of liquid courage, she asked, “What makes y’think I need you to?”

The dancer quirked the corner of her lips, amused. JJ noticed that she was wearing lipstick. Red. So dark it might as well have been blood. “I can always tell when it’s someone’s first time.”

“Nonsense, I’ve done this many, many tim—”

Her false allegation spluttered out its last breath when the dancer sank onto JJ’s lap, burying her knees into the blue velvet seat at either side of her thighs and wrapping her hands loosely around the back of her neck. Suddenly, her cleavage was right in JJ’s eyeline. She exerted every ounce of will she had on keeping her head tilted back and her eyes unwaveringly north. 

“You were saying?” teased the dancer, fingertips grazing the small hairs at the nape of JJ’s neck. She grinded against her lap and JJ bit her lip, head thudding against the back of the cushioned seat. 

“Uh, I’m JJ, by the way,” she introduced herself. What were people supposed to say in these situations? 

“Yasmin,” replied the dancer, before ducking her head to whisper, “Yaz to my friends,” right into JJ’s ear. 

For the first time, JJ began to notice how warm it was in the club; she began to notice every reverberation of the music shaking her bones and she noticed the brume of spirituous fog dissipating further from her head each time Yaz rocked her hips and grinded against her lap. Yaz’s palms pressed into the velvet beside JJ’s head, while JJ’s own hands sat limp and uncertain beside her. She tapped an anxious finger against the cushion.

“So, Yaz,” she began, trying for casual and landing somewhere in the ballpark of nervous wreck, “how does one end up in the, uh, performing industry?”

Yaz swivelled her hips, her pelvis brushing against JJ’s stomach maddeningly. “Gotta pay off my master’s somehow.”

“You have a master’s degree?”

“That surprises you?” she asked, an immaculately sculpted brow arched in the shape of a challenge.

JJ’s eyes widened. “Oh, no! No, I — I never meant to—”

Yaz laughed. She laughed and it sounded like music. JJ couldn’t be sure if she was laughing at her or with her. Regardless, it was as contagious as it was dulcet, and JJ couldn’t help but offer her own smile in return — sheepish though it was.

Just as JJ thought she was just beginning to relax, Yaz slipped off her only to turn around and drop backwards onto her lap. Cheeks flaring, JJ balled her fists at her sides and lifted her eyes to the ceiling when Yaz’s hips stirred and she shifted in slow, rhythmic motions along the length of JJ’s thigh. Backwards and forwards and backwards and forwards — the constant friction igniting sparks of arousal like bang snaps in her gut. 

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, chagrined at her slip of the tongue when Yaz looked over her shoulder and dropped her eyes briefly below JJ’s belt. She knew very well the effect she was having and she wanted JJ to know it, too. 

Yaz leaned backwards, back pressing into JJ’s chest, and JJ let her chin rest on Yaz’s shoulder. Their eyes met and Yaz pulled a plump, crimson lip between her teeth while she grinded deeper still against her leg. She slid the kimono partway down her shoulder and JJ indulged herself in a glance at the newly exposed flesh, watching Yaz’s prominent shoulder muscles shift beneath her skin as she curled an arm around the back of JJ’s head and pulled her face towards her. 

“I like your perfume,” whispered JJ. It was as inebriating as the rest of her; sweet and heady and nothing delicate about it.

“I like your cologne,” said Yaz, words settling on the curve of JJ’s lips. 

In her periphery, JJ spotted Jack gesticulating wildly from across the booth and, regretfully, stole her eyes away from Yaz to see what it was that he wanted. Face slack with confusion, she watched Jack swipe the fingers of one hand against the palm of another. When it became obvious that JJ didn’t follow, he rolled his eyes with no small measure of exaggeration, holding up his wallet instead and pointing between it and Yaz. 

_Oh._

Retrieving her wallet from her trousers, JJ flicked through the large notes and then hesitated. “So, do you — do you have pockets, or…”

Yaz froze mid-grind. She turned to gauge JJ and, upon finding her to be sincere, laughed in a manner more genuine than JJ had been fortunate enough to witness all night. “No pockets, babe,” she said around a puzzled smile. 

The tips of JJ’s ears went red. “Right. No, ‘cause that would be ridiculous. Obviously.”

Swivelling around, Yaz resumed her dance on JJ’s other thigh and set her hands on her shoulders as she moved. 

“So, I’ll just… leave it… here…” Lips pressed tightly together and eyes fixed on a spot somewhere in the distance, JJ tucked a wad of notes into the hem of Yaz’s underwear. “Um, is that okay?”

Yaz looked down and her full bodied eyes fell over JJ, simultaneously dancing with amusement and darkly come-hither. When she looked at her like that, it drove JJ insane. She tried not to let on how turned on she was, but — _fuck._ Jack was right; it had been a while. And Yaz was about the most gorgeous human she had ever laid eyes upon. Every time she rocked and swayed against her, every time she leaned down to breathe or whisper or sigh in her ear, every time she ran her hands down her shirt, JJ turned to putty. 

JJ was a heavy chunk of change lighter by the time the dance ended. Shedding a few more notes as Yaz climbed off her, she opted to press them into her hand this time. 

“That were — that were brilliant. Really,” she commended, still feeling particularly hot around the collar. “Thanks, Yaz! Um — good luck with your student loans, eh?”

Breathing a perplexed laugh, Yaz tucked JJ’s cash into her bra and walked away with a light shake of her head. JJ couldn’t help but watch her go. Halfway across the room, Yaz turned her head — catching her in the act. She smirked knowingly and JJ averted her eyes with a swell of colour creeping up her neck. 

* * *

Half an hour later, JJ was returning from the bar carrying two double measures of top shelf bourbon when she froze a few feet from their booth. 

Yaz was back. 

She and Jack were chatting amiably — Jack with his arm draped across the top of the sofa behind her and the two of them laughing freely as if they were old friends catching up. He spotted JJ and his grin deepened. Yaz followed his gaze. When her eyes landed, JJ offered a polite smile, but Yaz only raked her eyes over her with a dizzying deal of coquetry.

“Speak of the devil,” Jack sniggered like a guilty schoolboy, rising to his feet and taking his drink from JJ. “It must be your birthday, JJ, ‘cause I just got you the best present _ever._ Wanna take a guess what it is?”

Yaz got to her feet and when she put her arm around JJ’s waist, JJ started so suddenly that her drink almost sloshed over the lip of her tumbler. 

“Hey, you,” Yaz smiled.

JJ looked to Jack as if for help, and Jack clapped her on the back. “I just footed a private dance for ya!” he announced with no less glee than one might reveal that they’d won the lottery. “No small thing. The lovely Yasmin here is a little more costly than your usual dancer. Go figure. You have expensive taste.” 

“Um, I don’t think—”

“Uh-uh!” Jack wagged his finger. “No returns. You being a prude isn’t gonna help her climb outta debt, is it?”

Whatever protest had been making its way up JJ’s throat wilted the second Yaz slipped a hand into hers and gave it a tug. “I’m bought and paid for already. Might as well get your money’s worth, babe.” She started to back up and JJ’s arm stretched out when she didn’t make a move to keep up. Yaz tilted her head. “Don’t you want me, JJ?”

“Oh, she wants you, honey,” Jack chimed. 

Eyeing their joined hands, JJ took a steeling sip of her scotch and, after a deep breath, nodded her head. Yaz smiled and turned away to lead her towards the private suites. On her way past, Jack beamed impishly at JJ with his thumbs up. She glowered at him, but the moment her back was turned the frown faded to nothing and she followed Yaz silently — taking a second sip of her drink in the hopes that it might pacify her tempestuous heart. 

The private room was pretty much exactly what JJ had expected. It was round and bordered by a mulberry couch of crushed velvet; a small stage and pole stood proud at the centre. Every inch of the wall, and even the ceiling, was adorned with mirrors. 

The door thudded closed behind them. Though there was a speaker affixed to the wall, the music was far quieter in the private suite than it was outside. This only exacerbated JJ’s nerves. Uncertain, she dithered by the door. 

“Warm in here, eh?” she remarked, hooking a finger around the collar of her shirt. 

“‘Cause you’re wearing too many clothes,” mused Yaz. She stepped brazenly up to JJ and slipped her fingers beneath the shoulders of her blazer, sliding it slowly down her arms until it dropped in a heap on the floor. JJ was entirely passive to Yaz’s whims, stumbling willingly after her when she looped her fingers around her suspenders and dragged her towards the sofa. She gave JJ a light shove when her thighs hit the seat, and she fell gracelessly into it. 

Yaz must have been able to pick up on JJ’s apprehension, miasmic as it was, because next thing she was leaning over her and popping open the top button of her shirt. “Relax,” she murmured, looking across at JJ through long, dark lashes. Her gaze flitted to JJ’s hair and she hummed, raking a hand through it and leaving her unkempt and ruffled. “Much better.” 

Loosening her tie (she’d been after a little extra breathing room all night), JJ nodded at Yaz’s heels. “Can take your shoes off, if y’like.”

“Got a thing for feet?” quipped Yaz.

“No,” shrugged JJ, unbuttoning her cuffs and rolling her shirtsleeves up to her elbows. “Just thought they might be a bit uncomfortable, is all.”

As if trying to catch her in a lie, Yaz searched JJ. She only blinked back. “Y’know, you’re not like my usuals,” Yaz confessed. 

JJ might have been out of her depth and a little bit tipsy, but she wasn’t totally gullible. “Yeah, right,” she laughed in good nature. “Bet y’say that to all the girls.”

Rather than refute JJ’s accusation, Yaz gave her an arch look that said, ‘ _maybe I do, maybe I don’t_ ’, and slipped out of her stilettos wordlessly. JJ’s eyes followed her as she ascended the steps up to the low platform. She shuffled onto the edge of her seat, setting her drink down on the stage and gazing reverentially up at Yaz.

“Your mate told me you’ve been stressed,” said Yaz, deft fingers working to slowly unbelt her kimono. 

JJ watched her hands attentively; followed every slight movement as she swayed in time to the music and peeled the garment off her back. “Little bit. Just — y’know. Work,” came her distracted reply. 

The kimono fell silently to the floor and Yaz turned her back. JJ bit down on her lip, watching the muscles in her back flex as she wrapped her hands around the pole and pulled herself up. So, too, was revealed a perfectly round posterior, which was hugged tightly by her black lace underwear. They were gauzy and left very little to the imagination. Just enough to tease that which wasn’t JJ’s to see or to have. 

When Yaz swivelled around on the pole, one leg hooked around it and the other outstretched, JJ immediately brought her wandering eyes to heel and fixed them on her face. 

“All work and no play…” tutted Yaz. “Y’know, you can look at something other than my face. It’s kinda what this is all for.” 

“Right. Sorry.”

Yaz chuckled. She commanded her body with remarkable restraint; hardly betraying the effort it took for her to cross her ankles and let go of the pole. She leaned back, and JJ was taken by the flexibility of her body. Her ribs jutted against the taut stretch of skin above them and the contours of her abs caught the blue light — as did the glitter stuck to her skin with perspiration. The expanse of her was a canvas of twinkling stars and JJ might have liked to emulate Icarus and let them burn her.

Her lack of hubris wouldn’t allow for it. 

“Have, uh — have you been doin’ this long?”

Yaz slipped down the pole and dropped to her haunches, knees pointed outwards. She shrugged. “A while.”

JJ nodded. “You’re good,” she said. “Excellent, actually.”

Pulling away from the pole, Yaz dropped to her hands and knees and JJ’s body stiffened as she crawled towards her. Yaz pulled her in by the knot of her tie until their lips were millimetres apart, before whispering, “You have to be. Competitive game.” 

Unthinking, JJ darted the tip of her tongue across her lower lip. “Don’t you wish you didn’t have to do it?”

Yaz pressed her palm flat against JJ’s shirt, right over her collarbone, and danced her thumb lightly across the tiny sliver of pale skin exposed between her open collar. She leaned tauntingly close to JJ’s mouth — stared at it with intent — then she pushed her back against the sofa. JJ felt a fool for allowing herself a misguided modicum of false hope. But that was all part of the fun, wasn’t it?

Part of Yaz’s fun, she was sure. Dangling the unattainable in front of the rich and needy and laughing at them when their backs were turned. 

“Is this the part where you offer to take care of me?” asked Yaz, rising to her feet and making her way down the steps towards her. “D’you know how many times a night I hear that?”

That hadn’t been what JJ was implying. Instead of denying it, however, she allowed herself to imagine it. She imagined waking up to a woman like Yaz. No, not a woman _like_ Yaz. Just Yaz. She imagined coming home to her. She imagined cooking for her, she imagined buying her flowers and dresses and a dozen bottles of her favourite perfume; she imagined dropping to her knees for her. Sure, JJ was worshipping a fantasy — but Yaz was a bloody fine fantasy. 

“I’m not ashamed of what I do, JJ,” said Yaz, and the way she purred her name as she sank into her lap blew her daydreams out like a candle and she found herself propelled back into the moment. “Sometimes,” Yaz went on, sliding her hands around JJ’s neck and leaning into her ear, “I even enjoy it.” 

JJ exhaled shakily. “Are you enjoyin’ it right now?”

“What d’you think?” posed Yaz, tugging one of her bra straps down off her shoulder. “You can touch me, if you like.”

Eyes snapping up to meet Yaz’s face, JJ frowned. “I — I can do that?”

“It’s generally left to the dancer’s discretion,” Yaz explained, lifting JJ’s idle hands to her thighs. 

Yaz’s skin felt exactly as JJ expected it to. Soft. Silken. Tight. She ran her hands slowly up her thighs, glancing up at Yaz to make sure she wasn’t crossing a line. JJ had rough hands, artist’s hands; the hands of an ambidextrous architect who sketched their whole life away — which is exactly what she was. Yaz, in contrast, was impossibly smooth to the touch. Liquid. Like water between her fingers, and exactly as elusive. 

JJ wasn’t sure if she was meant to say something. “Um, nice,” she stuttered. “Yeah, brilliant, that’s very—”

“You’re cute,” laughed Yaz, fortunately missing JJ’s successive blush when she pressed her palms against the backrest and surged her hips forwards until her body was flush against JJ’s. Once again, JJ found herself with a face full of Yaz’s breasts and no idea what to do about that. 

Yaz combed her fingers through JJ’s hair as she rode the air above her, every motion perfectly timed to the slow beat of the music. Attempting not to ogle so hungrily at Yaz’s cleavage, which was an incredible chore, JJ found herself fixating on basically every other inch of her body. Clavicle, collarbones, throat, jawline — that one strapless shoulder. 

JJ dared to let her hands roam further, sliding them up Yaz’s sides as she rotated her hips and pressed ever closer. At this point, there was nowhere for JJ to look _except_ her breasts. She began to wish she hadn’t left her drink out of reach on the stage. As JJ watched with unfaltering enrapture, Yaz pulled the second bra strap down over her shoulder. JJ wasn’t sure whether this was a thing she was allowed to hope for; what the rules even were in a place like this. 

“Do the honours, babe?” Yaz slid off JJ’s lap just to turn around and drop right back into it, sweeping her hair out of the way and allowing for easier access to the fastening. 

Mouth dry, JJ sat up straighter. Her usually steady hands fumbled with the clasp a few times before she finally managed to unhook it. When she did, the only thing holding the loose garment in place was Yaz’s forearm across her chest. Her arm lingered — taunting. Their eyes met in their reflection across the room and, surprising herself, JJ managed to hold it without backing down. It was a long, loaded moment — during which Yaz arched against JJ’s front and JJ held Yaz’s hips with a surer grip than before — before Yaz dropped the bra. 

_Okay_ , thought JJ. _So, it is allowed. Noted._

Eyebrows fleeing to her hairline, JJ’s throat bobbed perceptibly whilst her gaze hitched over Yaz’s exposed chest in the mirror. Soft, dusky nipples capped the peaks of her breasts and JJ would’ve been lying to say she didn’t briefly entertain what it might be like to take one into her mouth. 

Yaz simpered, clearly savvy to the many filthy places JJ’s mind drifted to at the sight of her. It’s not like she wasn’t accustomed to it, after all. Yaz rutted deeper into JJ’s lap, backing up into her and prompting a mortifying grunt that had Yaz’s brows slanting inwards.

“All right, back there?” she asked without ceasing the groove of her hips.

“Wonderful,” said JJ. She blew her cheeks out, leaning into Yaz’s motions until Yaz’s bare back was firm against her and her every movement rustled her crisp shirt. 

Yaz turned her head to the side, better allowing JJ a closeup of her flawless profile. “You’re not gonna…” Her eyes dropped to JJ’s lap pointedly. 

“I — no!” JJ denied profusely upon realising what Yaz was insinuating. ‘No, I’m not gon — do people do that?”

“Sometimes.”

“That’s…” JJ cringed and shook her head. “God.”

Lifting herself from JJ’s lap, Yaz pulled her up by the buckle of her belt and let her hand linger for a tantalising, agonising moment. She dropped to her haunches in front of her. Head level with JJ’s crotch, she looked up and didn’t break eye contact when, hands sliding up the front of JJ’s legs all the while, she rose slowly to her feet. She took JJ’s hands and let them rest against her hips as she stepped into her, danced for her, grinded against her. 

True, she was dancing in perfect harmony with the music, but JJ also thought she danced to her own song. There was something in the way she moved that was so uniquely her — sensual but elegant, free but restrained, present but aloof. She moved like a paradox; like an enigma JJ wanted to crack. 

“Does this ever turn you on?” JJ wondered, realising for the first time that — without her heels — Yaz was marginally shorter than her. 

Yaz looked up through her lashes and draped her arms over JJ’s shoulders. JJ felt her pelvis push up against her thigh and couldn’t help but look down at the join of their bodies. So many gaps she wished she could fill; so much space she ached to eradicate. “Of course it turns me on,” crooned Yaz, hands sliding along the length of JJ’s braces and tugging her finitely closer. 

JJ pursed her lips. “You have to say that.” 

“So, why did you ask?” prompted Yaz with a coy smirk. 

“Dunno.” Tentatively, JJ reached up a hand to trace the edge of her jaw and Yaz’s eyes followed the movement. “Wondered if you’d be honest with me, I s’pose.”

“That’s extra, babe.” 

Without missing a beat, JJ asked, “How much?”

But Yaz didn’t bite. Rather, she turned around and reached a hand around to the back of JJ’s head as she continued to dance flush against her. The curve of her backside jutted against JJ’s crotch while she moved and JJ’s breathing faltered. Hands finding purchase at the top of Yaz’s thighs, JJ nestled her nose against her neck and sought out a dose of her perfume like an addict sought out their next hit. Maybe it was bad for her health, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get swept up in the bliss of it for a while.

“You’re divine, Yasmin,” she sighed, running a finger along her shoulder and down her arm. “How many times a day do you hear that?”

Once again, their eyes met in the mirror. “Enough,” Yaz shrugged. She turned her head until their noses were almost touching and their mouths were millimetres apart, a distance that threatened to diminish entirely whenever she swayed just so, and wrapped a hand around the side of JJs neck. “Everybody’s got a different word for it. Divine. Hot. Sexy. Goddess. Slut. Queen. They’re just words, babe.” 

“I never say anything I don’t mean,” insisted JJ, a helpless captive to Yaz’s eyes. Somehow, JJ found the eye contact to be more indecent than the nudity. Still, she couldn't look away. 

“You and everybody else.” Yaz scratched the back of JJ’s neck lightly and her every touch left electric sparks in its wake. “Everybody always says what they mean, nobody ever lies, this isn’t just business for me, I’m really, really turned on by you. Anything goes in the club, JJ — just don’t pretend it’s anything true.” 

“D’you ever have to remind yourself of that?” JJ slipped her wallet out of her trouser pocket and tucked a note into the front of Yaz’s underwear without relinquishing her eyes. “Be honest.”

Yaz glanced down at the note. When she looked back up, she arched a brow expectantly. Taking the hint, JJ folded another note into her waistband. 

“Usually, I don’t have to remind myself,” Yaz said. “ _Usually_ , my customers are just that. Drunk, horny, grabby, and way too rich for their own good.”

“Usually?”

“What do you wanna hear, JJ?” asked Yaz, walking a slow circle around JJ with her hand sliding along her chest, her shoulders, her back. “Want me to tell you you’re special? You are. You’re special. You’re different. You really, really turn me on.” Yaz stopped behind JJ and slipped her hands around her waist, bare chest pressing into her back as she danced.

JJ watched her in the mirror beside them. Dazed and light-headed, she was delighted when she still managed to find her voice — distant though it sounded even to her own ears. “Thought I asked you to be honest.” 

“Who says I’m lying?” 

“Lying’s the game, Yasmin. Isn’t it?” JJ turned around and tilted her head as she beheld Yaz with careful regard. “Is Yasmin even your real name?”

Yaz ran her hands down JJ’s chest and blinked slowly at her. “Would you believe me if I told you it was?” She ran her hands back up and locked them together behind JJ’s neck, hips swinging side to side and a dangerous smile playing on her lips when she deliberately let her gaze hitch over JJ’s mouth. 

“You’ll forget about me as soon as I walk out of that door, won’t you?” asked JJ, reaching behind Yaz and slipping a note into her underwear. 

“What do you think?” Yaz nudged her nose against JJ’s. “Do you think I’ll forget?”

“Yeah,” said JJ, shedding yet another note. This time, she looked down when she inserted it between the front of the garment and Yaz’s skin. “I do.”

“And you won’t forget about me?”

JJ was heavily under the influence of Yaz’s hot skin, of her entombing eyes and hazardously close lips, when she said, “I don’t want to forget.” 

* * *

Jack was thoroughly hammered. 

JJ only managed to drag him out of the club when she convinced him she was taking him to the extra secret VIP area, and he was so drunk he didn’t even realise he’d been duped until JJ was relaying his address to the taxi driver and buckling his seatbelt on for him. 

“So, is the VIP area at another location?”

“The VIP area’s your bed, mate.”

Jack made a noise halfway between a laugh and a groan. “Oh, you got me.” 

Shaking her head, JJ stepped back out onto the sidewalk and closed the door, leaning in through the window just to offer an in vain, “Be safe, Jack.”

“I never do anything safe,” he slurred.

“Tellin’ me.”

With a sigh, JJ straightened up and gave the roof of the taxi a light knock. The taxi pulled away from the kerb. Watching it go, JJ slipped a hand into her pocket to retrieve her wallet for a taxi of her own. When her fingers sank unhindered straight to the bottom of the pocket, her heart sank right alongside them. She checked each of her pockets frantically; patted herself down. Then she remembered — Jack had been so appalled at how much money she’d given to Yaz that he’d confiscated her wallet for the night. It was in his coat pocket.

“Shit — wait!” JJ took off after the taxi, but it was around the corner before she got more than a few steps down the street. She cursed loudly, running a frustrated hand through her hair and turning back. 

Her footsteps stalled when she spotted a familiar face. Yaz was hailing a taxi, and presumably had been watching the scene unfold if the mercifully close-lipped laughter behind her eyes was anything to go by. She looked different now that she was actually dressed, the lingerie and kimono having been replaced with dark jeans and a leather jacket. Still, the glitter on her skin caught the light of the neon sign and her painted lips retained that cutting, clever smile.

“Hiya, Yaz,” greeted JJ, ears burning when she remembered that just an hour ago she’d been half nude and moulded against her body. 

“Lost your wallet?” Yaz presumed as a taxi pulled up for her and she opened the back door. 

“Oh, well, not lost. I know where it is — it just isn’t here.” 

“How you gonna get home?”

“Uber!” announced JJ. She whipped her phone out — and frowned. “Or, I would, if my phone weren’t dead. Guess I’ll walk! Shouldn’t take too long. If I sprint. Love a good sprint. Never sprinted in a suit before, mind, but I’m all for tryin’ new things.” 

The taxi driver leaned his head out the window. “You gettin’ in or what, love?”

“Yeah, one sec,” said Yaz. She eyed JJ and drummed her fingers against the roof of the car in deliberation. Sighing, she stepped back and gestured at the taxi. “Get in.” 

JJ blinked. “What?”

“You’re not walking home at this hour. C’mon, you can just share my taxi.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Most of the money in my pocket came straight from your wallet anyway, mate,” reasoned Yaz. “Hurry up, will you? The meter’s on.” 

Somehow, the tension in the back of the taxi was thicker even than it was while Yaz had been grinding on JJ’s lap. JJ fidgeted with her hands and looked out the window, all too aware of the mere inches separating she and Yaz. Her demeanour outside the club was a lot different. She was more relaxed; a little slouched, even. JJ spared a glance sideways to find that she was already watching her. Yaz didn’t look away — or make any indication that she was embarrassed to have been caught. 

“Um, so now that you’re off the clock,” started JJ, shifting to face her, “can I ask — do you really enjoy what you do?”

Yaz leaned her elbow on the window ledge and rested her temple against two fingers, looking JJ up and down. Not with fabricated desire or faux-lechery, only with curiosity. “Sometimes, yeah. It can feel liberating to be up on stage and know that every guy in there wants to fuck you but never can. To take their money and send them home to their wives and kids. To know that they’ll be picturing your face when they’re having unfulfilling missionary for the second and final time that year.”

“It’s a powerful thing,” agreed JJ. “You’re a powerful woman. In all senses of the word.”

“You don’t know me, JJ,” argued Yaz without venom. “Just ‘cause I took my bra off for you, doesn’t mean you understand me. You get that, right? Who I am on stage, that’s a persona. That’s another lie. It’s what the industry’s built on.”

“And who are you, when you’re not on stage, Yasmin?” JJ wondered, draping her arm across the back of the seat.

Yaz smiled. “You couldn’t handle a woman like me, babe.”

“Who said anythin’ about handling you?” JJ cocked a brow. “Way I see it, you don’t need to be tamed. You don’t go around taming panthers, d’you? They’re free and they’re wild — and they’re happier for it. Try to domesticate ‘em and they’ll tear you limb from limb.” 

“So, what do I need, JJ?” asked Yaz, resting her own arm on the backrest and letting her fingertips hover dangerously near to JJ’s. “Enlighten me.” 

JJ grinned. “You just need room to play.” 

“Right,” Yaz rolled her eyes. “And you can offer that, I s’pose?”

“I can offer you the whole world, Yaz,” whispered JJ, leaning in for effect and letting her hand slide over Yaz’s. “Anythin’ you could ever want.”

Yaz wasn’t afforded time enough to respond before the taxi drove over a pothole and her purse slid off the seat onto the floor. She and JJ darted for it simultaneously, freezing when their hands touched over the leather and their faces stopped an infinitesimal distance apart. Yaz’s pupils flitted between each of JJ’s eyes and JJ didn’t have enough sense to do anything but look right back. After a freighted few seconds, JJ shied away from Yaz’s intensity and looked down. She picked up her purse and held it out for her. 

“Um, here you go.”

Rather than take her purse, Yaz instead took JJ by the knot of her tie and crashed into her mouth. Suffice it to say, the gesture caught JJ entirely unawares. Her eyebrows jumped skyward and the purse thudded right back to the floor when JJ spread her hands in shock. The unattainable Yasmin — the prize none could ever win, the projection on a pedestal, the game rigged with lies — was kissing her. 

And she’d have been a fool not to kiss her back. 

Closing her eyes and opening her mouth, JJ hummed against the swell of Yaz’s sticky lips and curled a hand around the back of her neck. Yaz tugged her in by the lapels of her jacket until JJ — a strict advocate for road safety though she was — was forced to unfasten her seatbelt and surge forwards. Could road safety really be more important than Yaz’s lips? Her tongue? The glitter in her hair and on her skin and even her mouth — which coated every inch of JJ as they fumbled shamelessly in the back of the cab? 

Certainly, the risk seemed entirely worth it when Yaz ran her hand up the inseam of JJ’s trousers and cupped her. JJ gasped, eyes darting anxiously to the driver until Yaz grabbed her chin and pulled her back into the kiss. 

Yaz led one of JJ’s hands to her breast and JJ palmed it over the fabric of her shirt, the kiss becoming breathier when Yaz rubbed her over the thin material separating her fingers from the warm valley between JJ’s legs. JJ tried not to make a noise; tried not to alert the driver that there was anything more untoward than a kiss taking place in his back seat. 

Attaching her lips to JJ’s pulse point, Yaz pressed her palm deeper against JJ’s crotch and JJ braced one of hers against the car door. The other hand, she ran loosely through Yaz’s curls. Restraining her grip became a task when Yaz nipped at the tender flesh beneath the curve of her jaw, only to soothe the aggravated skin right after with her tongue. JJ’s eyelashes fluttered and she canted her hips to maximise the pressure of Yaz’s hand between her thighs until she was all but grinding against her fingers. 

“I thought — I thought it was all just make believe?” JJ whispered.

“It is,” said Yaz, and captured JJ in another kiss to shut her up.

It was a few minutes later and JJ was certain she was about to unravel right there in the taxi while she rutted against Yaz’s hand, but then the driver rapped his knuckles harshly against the partition and JJ sprang away from her as if she’d been burned

“Oi, lovebirds!” he shouted. “We’re here.”

Face flushed, JJ peered out of the window and found that they had indeed arrived at her building. She looked to Yaz with a dazed smile. “Nightcap?” 

* * *

Stepping out of the elevator into JJ’s penthouse apartment, Yaz tipped her head back and her eyes went wide as she took the place in. JJ studied her reaction as she regarded the floor to ceiling windows, the granite kitchen and fully stocked bar, the polished floors and the firepit out on the balcony and the total opulence of it all. Suddenly feeling a little embarrassed, JJ rubbed the back of her neck. 

“Um, I designed the building, so — y’know. Architect perks,” she explained, plugging her phone into the charger on the foyer’s small desk 

“Can’t say I’m surprised this is how you live,” mused Yaz, “what with how well you tipped at the club.”

Yaz tried the first door, which opened into the bathroom. She let out a low whistle and stepped inside. Most of the surfaces were grey marble and there was a large, white tub at the end of the room, which sat right in front of a huge window overlooking the city. A walk-in shower with clear glass walls took up a large corner of the room, as did the his-and-hers sinks positioned beneath a mirror that had no right to be as wide or as tall as it was. 

“God, this bathroom’s bigger than my entire flat,” claimed Yaz, sliding open the shower door and turning the vault-esque valve affixed to the wall. JJ buried her hands into her pockets and watched Yaz test the water pressure from the chrome rainfall headset. She breathed a laugh. “How the hell do you ever drag yourself out of this thing?” 

“Uh, did you wanna…” JJ trailed off and pointed a thumb over her shoulder, but Yaz was paying her no mind.

No, instead, Yaz shucked off her leather jacket and kicked off her shoes. Words caught in her throat, JJ felt her skin begin to burn when Yaz pulled her shirt off over her head and unbuttoned her jeans. When the underwear followed, JJ dropped her eyes to her feet. 

“You’re… having a shower?”

“How can I not?” countered Yaz, and JJ heard the sound of her feet padding across wet marble. “Have you _seen_ your bathroom?”

JJ swallowed thickly. Was this another game? “Um, did you — do you want me to go?”

Yaz laughed. “Was kinda hoping you’d join me, actually.”

Slowly, JJ picked her eyes up off the floor and set them on Yaz. Stark naked beneath the jets of water, she combed her fingers through her hair and smirked at JJ. Yaz unhooked the smaller headset and began to run it across her body and every drop of water bounced off her like white sparks or else ran down her skin in a manner JJ envied deeply. She approached the open door and Yaz returned the headset to its hold, before stepping right up to JJ.

JJ was remarkably well behaved — even when Yaz hooked her fingers through her belt loops and pulled her up against her damp body she didn’t do anything except gaze, mumchance, at her vampish eyes and the untold sins they alluded to. Yaz’s lips stretched into a rakish smile.

“You’re so easily flustered,” she teased, fingers working to unbuckle JJ’s belt. “I can tell this is gonna be fun.” 

“I’ve just never met anyone like you before,” murmured JJ. Her belt came undone and she stayed Yaz’s wrist before she could set to work on the buttons of her shirt. “Allow me.” 

“Sure you can manage?” quipped Yaz, but she dropped her hands and backed up into the shower. 

JJ began to strip off with laughable haste and Yaz ran her hands across her body all the while like a dare — _come swap these hands with your own. I’m waiting._ When she hobbled on one leg to remove her boots, JJ almost toppled over, and Yaz laughed at her childlike keenness. When JJ was down to her underwear, Yaz’s laugh faded and JJ felt so incredibly _seen_ when she peeled off her boxers and sports bra in turn. Yaz was watching with carnal intent. It oozed from her every pore, mingled with the steam of the shower, and coiled its tendrils around JJ’s throat. 

Resisting the urge to cover herself, JJ joined Yaz in the shower. Yaz’s eyes roamed over every inch of her body unabashedly and JJ just stood there, waiting for her to make the first move. 

“Turn around,” said Yaz.

JJ turned around. She heard Yaz unhook the small handset again, flinching involuntarily when she felt the stream of water against her spine. Yaz ran the water across JJ’s whole body, rinsing glitter and perspiration and the patina of the night from her skin and letting it all circle the drain. JJ thanked that the powerful jet masked the sound of her suicidal heart slamming ferociously against her ribs; that it masked the way her breathing stammered whenever Yaz angled the water at the more sensitive areas of her body. 

What it didn’t mask was the way JJ started when Yaz reached around her to direct the stream up between her thighs. She stumbled backwards, right into Yaz’s bare chest, and lifted her eyes to the ceiling as if willing herself to calm down.

“I don’t make a habit of this, y’know?” Yaz spoke right into her ear.

“What’s that?” JJ cursed that her voice came out exactly as strained as her estranged relationship with calm and collected.

“Going home with clients,” elucidated Yaz, slotting the handset back into its hold.

“Never even crossed my mind.”

JJ turned to face her. Yaz’s back was the only thing directly under the running water, and JJ watched the way it slipped down her shoulders and pooled in the hollow of her throat and the jut of her collarbones like small oases. 

“Why me?” JJ asked. 

Yaz lifted her hands to JJ’s hips and cocked a shoulder. “You were just… different. You didn’t belong there.”

“Nothin’ to do with my staggering good looks?” pouted JJ.

Rolling her eyes, Yaz tapped a slow rhythm against JJ’s ribs with her thumb and JJ half wondered if she was drumming along to the beat of that song inside of her; that music none could hear save her. She wished she could tune into that frequency, too. JJ offered a cheeky smile, but it wasn’t long for the world when Yaz backed her slowly up against the tiles. 

“You were such a bloody gentleman the whole time,” Yaz said. “Even now, I’m standing here naked and you’re looking at my eyes.”

“They’re very pretty eyes.”

“Look at me.”

“I am.”

“Properly.”

After only a moment’s delay, JJ obeyed. Her eyes swooped low and she drank in the sight of Yaz in her naked sublimity. As an architect, JJ had a good eye for design — and whoever had drawn up the blueprints to Yaz’s body was surely a master at their craft. She was flawless for all her flaws, perfect for all her imperfections (not that JJ could spot any; she assumed she must have been blinded by her intense infatuation with her. Nobody could really be so totally lacking in physical fault, could they?)

“I wish I could tell you how I see you,” breathed JJ, “but I know it won’t be anythin’ you don’t hear a thousand times a night from a thousand different people.”

“So, don’t tell me.” At that, Yaz took one of JJ’s hands and guided it to her breast. “Show me.”

JJ smoothed her thumb over Yaz’s nipple, the flesh giving and soft in the damp heat of the shower. Yaz pressed her hands to the wall at either side of her and, in a manner very much reminiscent of her taunting at the club, leaned in just close enough to tease her lips without giving them away. But they weren’t in the club anymore. 

JJ kissed her. 

It didn’t take long at all for them to find their way back to the deep end. They sank further into the fervid heat of one another’s passion the longer they kissed, JJ’s hands groping Yaz’s breasts and her backside; tongues sliding over one another just as their wet skin slid over the frictionless expanse of their respective bodies. JJ worked hard to divine which of her inflictions prompted Yaz to sigh or grunt or gasp into her mouth and was quick to repeat those that she deemed a success. 

Peeling herself from the wall, but not from Yaz’s lips, JJ walked Yaz across the shower until her back hit glass. Nestling a thigh between Yaz’s legs, JJ dipped her head to her throat and seasoned her with wet kisses until she found a spot that made Yaz’s breathing waver; made the grip in her sodden hair tighten considerably. She lavished it with attention from her tongue and teeth, and only when she’d left her mark did she begin her descent further south. 

Fulfilling a desire she’d been harbouring since their private dance, JJ took one of Yaz’s deep ruby nipples into her mouth and sucked it until it hardened against her tongue. She applied no less attention to the other nipple, forever keeping the other entertained between her fingers while she gyrated her tongue around the pebbled flesh with quiet hums of delight.

And then — further south, still. 

She trailed kisses along Yaz’s abdomen, remarking at how solid her muscles felt against the soft press of her mouth, until her lips hit the bump of Yaz’s pelvic bone and she was on one knee in front of her. Eye level with her crotch. Pulling back a fraction, JJ peered up at Yaz and asked a question without moving her mouth.

Yaz nodded, peeling the wet hair out of JJ’s face and bringing her hand to rest on the back of her head. “And don’t do it like a gentleman, either,” she said, and slung a leg over JJ’s shoulder — which JJ was quick to coil an arm around to hold in place.

Staring down the barrel of a desire she’d been denied all night, JJ allowed herself a brief, victorious smile. She dove in. 

Being as averse to objectification as she was, JJ hadn’t imagined what kind of sounds Yaz might make were this to happen. She hadn’t imagined what Yaz might look like with JJ’s head between her thighs and she definitely hadn’t imagined what she would taste like on her tongue. But, if she _had,_ she’d have found that even her wildest fantasies didn’t come close to the real thing.

Not even the most visceral chimera might have prepared JJ for the way Yaz swore at the first swipe of her tongue against her. It was slow and experimental and she eyed Yaz as her tongue came to rest on her clit. Yaz was gazing down at her, a deep crimp between her brows as she braced herself against JJ’s oncoming onslaught. JJ was only too happy to deliver. She quickened the pace of her tongue against Yaz, flitting it in rapid back and forth motions against the mass of searing nerves that burgeoned against her attentive administrations. It wasn’t hard to separate the thick musk of her arousal from the residual moisture of the shower, and JJ lapped at it as if a wild, thirsty animal at the watering hole.

“Fuck, JJ,” moaned Yaz, thudding her head back against the glass and knotting her fingers in JJ’s hair.

Never had JJ liked her name more as she did right then, in that moment, as it tumbled forth from Yaz’s unholy lips like an admission of either love or hate. Emboldened, she pushed her tongue past Yaz’s entrance and buried it as deep inside the sacred ground of her as the realm of possibility would allow. She ate and ate and ate until her heart was content and each of Yaz’s sighs transmuted into moans halfway up her throat.

Yaz’s abs tensed against JJ’s forehead with every motion of her tongue. JJ’s hand drifted back along them towards Yaz’s breasts and she synchronised her ardent licks with the twists of her fingers around Yaz’s nipple. 

She rolled it between them as one might roll and shape playdough. Yaz was not quite as malleable — but then, JJ wasn’t attempting to reshape her. That would have been blasphemy. No, all JJ desired from Yaz was the succeeding surge of sap-like warmth that trickled down JJ’s tongue and coated both her chin and the tip of her nose upon another sharp turn of her wrist. 

JJ smeared the hard-earned extract of Yaz’s arousal against her with the flat of her tongue and Yaz grunted when she fastened herself to her clit once more. She suctioned the nub of her quivering nerves between her lips and tongue, unrelenting in her mission to break Yaz wide open that the enigma of her might unspool onto JJ’s lap and she might sneak in through the opening of her barriers unnoticed. 

Around the first whimpered initial of JJ’s name, Yaz came. 

She held JJ’s head firm against herself and JJ’s scalp smarted with her tight grip. Smothered by Yaz’s dampness and her hearth-like warmth and the unhinging natural perfume of her, JJ pressed on without oxygen and without any urge to seek it. 

As far as JJ was concerned, life began and ended at the tip of her tongue and lasted only as long as Yaz’s reign over cloud nine. Which, to be fair, was a while. She should have expected no less from a woman so accustomed to unreachable heights atop neon-lit pedestals and cash-littered daises. 

Fortunately for Yaz, then, she didn’t have far to fall when she came down from the crest of her orgasm. Fingers loosening at the back of JJ’s head, she went slack against the glass and JJ detached from her with a sharp intake of breath, gasping for the air she’d been denied in favour of maximising Yaz’s ecstasy — the very same air she’d renounce again in a heartbeat for another taste of one so gratifyingly worthy. 

When her lungs begrudged her reckless disregard of them no more, JJ looked up with a golden gleam behind animated hazel. “Would a gentleman do that?”

Half-lidded eyes fell over her and Yaz breathed a mystified laugh. “C’mere.” Yaz took JJ’s hand and helped her to her feet, and when they were face to face, she looked at JJ like she was really considering her for the first time. JJ wondered if she really had managed to sneak past one of those multitudinous layers of hers. Her tongue: the picklock. Who knew? 

Yaz wrapped her hands around her neck and drew her in, running her tongue up JJ’s chin and lips to procure herself a morsel of her own wild honey. Finding it to be agreeable, she leaned in for seconds and caught JJ’s lower lip between her own. JJ kissed her with no less zeal than she ate her, dynamised further still when Yaz cupped her roughly from behind and squeezed her fingers against the smooth arc of her as though to bruise.

Backing her up quickly across the stream of water, Yaz didn’t stop until JJ’s body hit clammy marble and their chests were moulded together like ill-fitting puzzle pieces. Yaz didn’t waste any time. She hiked JJ’s leg up around her hip and slipped a hand between her thighs. All she did was brush a finger lightly against her and that was enough to have JJ’s whole body tense up. 

“Christ,” laughed Yaz, “your mate really weren’t lying.”

“About what?”

“You really do need to get laid.”

“Wh—”

Whatever objection JJ was about to make tapered off into a sigh the moment Yaz sunk a finger inside the hot squeeze of her. JJ’s hands found purchase on Yaz’s shoulders and she tilted her head to one side, better exposing her throat to Yaz’s lips when she descended them upon her neck. Yaz planted hot, wet kisses to her damp skin as her hand began to gain traction inside of her. Wet as she was, JJ hadn’t even noticed Yaz’s second finger slip inside until the third one nestled in after it.

JJ failed to suppress her jarred moans, her body juddering violently against the wall as Yaz gained momentum and caught the lobe of her ear between her lips and teeth. If Yaz was trying to match the devoutness JJ had afforded when she’d eaten her out, she was certainly succeeding. She curled her adept fingers inside of her and JJ dug her fingers into Yaz’s shoulders, panting heavily through her open mouth. 

Yaz thudded her forehead against JJ’s, closely watching every flutter of her eyelids and twist of her face as she laboured with dogged perseverance between her thighs. Something about those black eyes on her, unblinking and fiercely focused, brought back to mind JJ’s earlier comparison of the panther.

Indeed, JJ felt very much like small prey clamped in the powerful jaws of a ruthless predator when Yaz flashed her teeth in some semblance of a complacent smirk. Only, Yaz was killing not for survival but for sport. For fun. This was starting to feel less like JJ’s conquest and more like Yaz’s. Was this always how the chips were going to fall? Was this Yaz’s design all along — and, if so, how many moves ahead _was_ she? It didn’t matter. JJ didn’t think she’d be able to catch up if she tried.

After Yaz applied a long hungered for pressure to JJ’s clit, it was embarrassing how fast she came. So fast, in fact, that after she rasped out a staggered whimper and thudded her head against Yaz’s shoulder, Yaz frowned down at her.

“Did you — are you done?”

“Sorry,” JJ grimaced, lifting her head despite the indignity of the situation. “Can’t really blame me — we’ve basically been at the foreplay for hours.”

Yaz withdrew her fingers and breathed a laugh through her nose. “Surprised you didn’t come sooner, to be honest,” she jibed, rinsing her hand under the shower and then turning off the water.

“Well — c’mon, have you seen yourself lately?” JJ defended herself, following Yaz out of the shower. “When a woman like you spends half the night grinding on your lap, it’s kind of impossible not to get so worked up.” She grabbed a towel from the rail and helped Yaz dry off, patting her body down and actively avoiding her quiet scrutiny when she crouched down to rub down her thighs and calves. 

“It worked you up?” Yaz queried from above.

“You know it did,” huffed JJ, rising to her feet and slinging the towel into the laundry bin. 

“Yeah,” shrugged Yaz, lips twitching in a manner bordering on flirtatious, “I know it did. You weren’t exactly subtle.”

“Never been my strong suit, subtlety,” JJ granted apologetically, leaning against the counter with her back to the mirror. “Hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable. Defo weren’t my intention. Shouldn’t have even been there tonight — and, if I hadn’t spotted you, I probably would’ve made my exit a lot sooner.” 

Yaz eyed JJ. She did that a lot, as if she was trying to figure JJ out as much as JJ was trying to figure her out. “So, if I weren’t here right now, what would you have done? If you were _so_ worked up?” asked Yaz, gripping the lip of the counter on either side of JJ and extinguishing the notion of personal space. “Would you have gone to bed? Imagined I were in it with you?” Her waxed pupils migrated south; settled there. “Touched yourself?”

JJ thought Yaz had no right to make her feel so exposed after all they’d just done; wondered how she even pulled it off now that she was on home turf. Surely, JJ should have had the upper hand here. And yet. She scratched the back of her shoulder meekly. “In all likelihood, yeah,” she confessed.

Ducking her head to catch JJ’s eye, Yaz’s delinquent smile stretched a little wider. “And what would you have imagined me doing to you, JJ?”

“I…” A thousand different scenarios, each as depraved as the last, played in a pornographic supercut in JJ’s head. It would have been an easier task to recount the things she _wouldn’t_ have pictured. “Would y’like to see my bedroom, Yasmin?”

Without dressing, JJ led Yaz across her open plan apartment towards the bedroom. They passed her lounge on the way, which was really just a couple of wine coloured sofas and a TV that closer resembled a cinema screen. The bedroom was a couple of steps off the floor; surrounding walls papered in blueprints and sketches and equations. She cleared a few of such articles off her king sized bed, which she realised she’d forgotten to make in her haste this morning. She hoped Yaz didn’t mind. 

JJ picked a remote up off the desk and pressed a button to lower the blinds. She could make out the first notes of morning light edging in over the horizon and figured it might be too sobering were the sun to rise on them, now. Instead, she flicked on a lamp in the corner of the room — dim enough to retain the atmosphere, with any luck.

Slipping a key out from beneath one of her succulents by the window, JJ crouched beside her bed and unlocked the drawer beneath it. Yaz stood over her shoulder and peered down as she pulled it open. 

She could virtually hear Yaz’s successive smirk without needing to turn. “That’s a lot of toys.”

Getting to her feet, JJ stepped to the side to allow Yaz a better look in. “Never know what someone’s gonna be into,” she reasoned. 

“People pleaser,” nodded Yaz sagely. “Got it.” 

Dithering awkwardly beside her, and almost wishing she were wearing something just so that she could slip her fidgety hands into her pockets, JJ watched Yaz rummage around in her drawer. She waited with bated breath to see what she would land on — or what, more to the point, she seemed to be searching for. Yaz laughed triumphantly when she found it.

She got to her feet and JJ’s eyes fell to the strap and velvet harness in her hands. Heart titillated and head reeling with a flurry of obscene visuals, JJ responded to Yaz’s domed brow with an eager nod of her head.

JJ offered to help Yaz into the harness, but apparently she was no novice — so JJ busied herself with fetching the lube, instead. When she got back, she stopped in her tracks. Yaz was perched on the foot of the bed, admiring the shaft of the dildo protruding from her crotch. It was impressive on all counts, JJ had to admit — ideal girth, length, curve; the thing was even made from ultra-premium silicone, which JJ had been sceptical of until she’d tried it for the first time. Ultra-premium apparently meant ultra-soft. 

“Um, are you — is it comfortable?” asked JJ, handing Yaz the bottle of lube. 

“Isn’t me you should be worrying about, babe,” Yaz said, getting to her feet and squeezing a dollop of lube onto her palm. “Get on the bed.”

As JJ climbed on top of her sheets and Yaz stroked the lube onto the toy, she noticed that Yaz had set a pair of silk binds aside on the duvet. Her stomach flipped with the realisation that this was all really happening and, by the looks of things, Yaz had no intentions of going easy on her. Which is precisely what JJ had hoped for.

Once JJ settled down on top of the covers, Yaz swept her eyes across her lithe body and nodded as if in approval. JJ hadn’t realised she’d been awaiting it, and yet somehow it felt like a relief. Even now, she was still trying to win Yaz over with everything she did — down to merely existing in her own bed. This was a realisation that both perplexed and excited her. JJ was nothing if not a striver, and Yaz’s esteem was a worthy thing to strive for. 

Yaz crawled on top of her and the slick tip of the toy brushed up against JJ’s thigh as she did so. She clenched her jaw, all senses on high alert, and watched with eyes like a hawk as Yaz picked up the binds beside her. JJ was quick to proffer her wrists, prompting a smug twist of Yaz’s lips. Each of JJ’s wrists she tied to respective posts of the bed frame. When Yaz was through, she sat back on her calves and straddled one of JJ’s legs. JJ tugged her arms to test the give of the restraints. There was little to be had. 

“You’ve done that before,” she postulated. 

“Once or twice.” 

“You’re always in control?”

Yaz trailed the tip of her pinky finger across JJ’s stomach and traced delicate whorls around each of her breasts. “Why would I ever wanna give it up? Losing control’s overrated.” She pressed her palms into the mattress at either side of JJ’s head and smiled wolfishly at her, hanging her mouth just shy of JJ’s own. “That’s why girls like you are so fun to play with.”

JJ stared at Yaz’s lips — a much softer shade of pink now that her lipstick had been scrubbed off. “‘Cause we won’t take your control?”

“JJ, you couldn’t take it from me if you tried,” laughed Yaz. “No, you’re fun ‘cause I can just take all of yours. In fact, I don’t even have to take it. You surrender it willingly. Gets you off, doesn’t it? The fear? The thrill? Wondering what I’m gonna do with you next?” Yaz cupped JJ’s face with one hand and swiped the pad of her thumb against her lower lip. Quick enough to have been missed in a blink, she flicked her tongue over JJ’s mouth and grinned nefariously at the way her lips parted in surprise. “Fuck, I bet this is driving you mad.”

Heedless of whatever response JJ had been on the cusp of articulating, Yaz kissed her. She didn’t wait for an invitation before slipping her tongue past the sill of her teeth, but JJ didn’t mind the intrusion in the slightest. She lifted her head from the pillow to deepen the kiss whilst Yaz ran her hands all over her body. Her every touch left a trail of goosebumps and charged nerves in its wake. 

Yaz provided no form of warning, no tender preamble, before jerking a nipple roughly between her fingers. So startled by this was she, JJ couldn’t help but clamp her teeth down on the fragile flesh of Yaz’s bottom lip. Her eyes snapped open when Yaz pulled abruptly away with a hiss. Yaz touched a finger to her mouth. It came away red. 

“Shit, Yaz — I’m so sorry, I didn’t — I have some cream in the bathroom, if—”

Pressing the very same finger to JJ’s mouth to silence her, JJ’s eyes crossed comically as she looked down at it. She looked to Yaz for direction, but Yaz only stared down at her. Waiting. Uncertain if this was what she was after, JJ parted her lips with a hardly perceptible tremble and took her fingertip into her mouth. Iron and salt mingled with the saliva on her tongue, of which she got another measure when Yaz resumed the kiss. Only, this time, Yaz’s hand moved from JJ’s mouth to her nose and she pinched it until the only air JJ had access to was the air from Yaz’s lungs. 

Punishment or reward, JJ couldn’t be sure — she was inclined to say it felt a little like both. The longer Yaz held her head under the high tide of her heady kiss, the harder her heart beat and the more she struggled against her restraints. While the drought inside her lungs raged on, monsoon season was in full swing just south of the equator. 

Yaz’ free hand trailed down the stretch of JJ’s stomach and then dipped past her pelvis. Whilst JJ gasped for desperately needed oxygen against her mouth, Yaz ran a slow finger through the flood between her thighs. 

Lightheadedness was fast creeping along the bank of JJ’s head by the time Yaz broke away and afforded her the luxury of autonomous breathing. Red-faced, JJ filled her lungs several times in quick succession — as if storing up reserves for the next time a shortage came around. Her vision swam back into focus and she saw Yaz rubbing her thumb and forefinger together, spreading JJ’s arousal all over one another. 

She tilted her head at JJ. “You ready for me, JJ?”

“So ready,” JJ enthused breathlessly. “So, so ready.” 

“Mm. I’m not sure you are,” taunted Yaz, leaning down to ghost her lips against the shell of JJ’s ear as she spoke. “I’m not sure you want it enough.” 

“I do. I really—” JJ stuttered when Yaz twitched a finger against her. “Fuck, I want it. I _need_ it. Please, Yaz.”

Yaz hummed and JJ felt the vibration of her lips against her skin. She plunged a finger inside her and JJ groaned, digging her clipped fingernails into her palm. “Maybe you’re right,” crooned Yaz. 

Withdrawing her finger, Yaz repositioned herself until she was kneeling between JJ’s splayed thighs. Hand wrapped around the wide base of the shaft, she rolled the tip once, twice, three times over JJ’s clit and then dragged it lower until it came to rest at her entrance. Gauging JJ, only to find her watching with rapt attention, Yaz leaned over her with one palm pressed into the mattress and tapped JJ’s thighs to encourage her to wrap them around her hips.

“Brace yourself, babe,” warned Yaz once she was satisfied with their position. The part of the sentence she didn’t say, the part that was implied, was, ‘ _because I won’t be holding back_.’

Foreheads pressed together, both of them looked down as Yaz began to ease herself along JJ’s walls. JJ hissed through gritted teeth, feeling herself stretch with mild discomfort to accommodate the gradually widening girth of the strap. Yaz’s eyes darted briefly up to read JJ’s face after every few centimetres but, aside from that, she was just as entranced by the sight of JJ’s body obliging the toy as JJ herself.

By the time Yaz was totally submersed in the strait of her, JJ’s breathing was laboured and her fists were clenched so tight her hands shook. She couldn’t help but let slip a quiet curse at the simple majesty of having Yaz sheathed inside of her; at the way she pulled her lip between her teeth as she regarded the nexus of their bodies. 

“This time,” Yaz said, peeling her forehead from JJ’s clammy skin, “you’re gonna tell me before you come, okay?”

JJ nodded. “Okay.”

“Good girl.” When, at Yaz’s purred commendation, JJ’s face flushed bright crimson, Yaz searched her with intrigue. “Oh, you really do live to please, don’t you?” she toyed.

“Please, Yaz,” JJ begged.

“Please, what?”

Pupils darting succinctly towards their joined hips, JJ looked up at Yaz with pleading eyes. Yaz laughed. 

“Since you asked so nicely…” Yaz curled her arms beneath JJ’s biceps and JJ felt her breath hot against her cheek as she almost totally unsheathed the toy — a split second before sliding it right back in to the hilt. 

JJ moaned and her forehead creased, the furrows in her skin deepening further as Yaz continued to thrust into her. She gained a little more traction with each buck of her hips, making quiet grunts every time she ploughed back in. Such beguiling noises profoundly whetted JJ’s insatiable appetite for Yaz; not for the first time, she wondered how she had ever been so lucky as to tempt her into her sheets. 

Yaz’s dancer’s stamina paid off in untold ways. Soon, she worked up to an unforgiving pace and slammed repeatedly into the tight compress of JJ with progressively accelerated rhythm. This song, JJ could hear. It was wet and loud and it was accompanied by the bass-drop of JJ’s supersonic pulse. Yaz’s fingers curled around JJ’s shoulders and bore into her skin without mercy, which did little to stymie JJ’s whines and her moans and the curses she chanted like a mantra every time Yaz drove back inside her. 

“You’re such a pretty moaner, JJ,” Yaz whispered, before running her tongue up the length of JJ’s throat and affixing her lips to the visible throb of her pulse. Their chests moved in tandem against one another and the friction of skin on skin, sweaty and stifling as it was, smothered JJ’s capacity for coherent thought. “You can be louder than that, can’t you, babe?”

Apparently so. 

The next time Yaz rammed into her, she angled her approach in such a way that she struck an isolated spot of intense sensitivity like an arrow to a bullseye and JJ’s loudest moan yet tore from her lungs. Noticing JJ’s avid reception, Yaz maintained the angle. Every following thrust was merely perfect target practice for the impending killing blow.

“Fuck — Yaz, I think I’m gonna—”

Yaz abruptly stilled, the shaft not even halfway inside JJ when she did. 

JJ raised her head, brows lifting upon the shoulders of her distress. “Wh — why did you stop?”

“You’re not getting off that easy, babe.” Yaz pulled out and JJ whined, head dropping in defeat against the pillow. “Tell me when you’ve calmed down enough to go again, yeah?” 

“But I’m ready,” protested JJ, with the same infliction as a child realising that life isn’t fair for the first time. 

“Well, I say you’re not.” Yaz lowered her head and her hair tickled JJ’s face. “Now, kiss me.”

Realising that Yaz wasn’t going to change her mind, JJ hoisted her shoulders off the bed by pulling on her binds and sought out Yaz’s lips. It was a wet, languid kiss with so much tongue JJ forgot what it had ever been like to house just the one. She only knew it must have been lacking; there was a reason every mouth had room enough for two and Yaz was undoubtedly it. 

Yaz massaged one of JJ’s nipples between her fingers and JJ hummed her glee, trying to ignore the ache in her gut for something much more imposing. When Yaz disentangled her lips from JJ’s, a thread of saliva bridged the tips of their tongues until she shuffled further down her body to arrest the peak of a breast in the clutch of her mouth. 

Her tongue lapped circles around the areola before flicking over the hardened nub and catching it between her teeth. She looked up at JJ and clamped negligibly down on it, relishing in JJ’s every wince. Testing the threshold of her pain, Yaz continued to pinch her teeth and dragged her nipple back and forth betwixt them. JJ couldn’t be sure if she wanted her to beg for release or if she wanted her to take whatever Yaz dished out. She opted to take it. 

She _wanted_ to take it.

After lavishing the same attention to JJ’s other nipple, Yaz peppered wet kisses across her body — chest, collarbones, abdomen, thighs. Yaz was in the midst of leaving a bright red mark on the tender skin of JJ’s inner leg, an area perilously close to the epicentre of her torrid desire, when JJ gave up holding her tongue. 

“I think I’m ready,” she blurted.

Yaz withdrew from JJ’s thigh, stroking the aggravated skin in muted admiration of her work. She glanced at JJ. “You think?”

“I’m ready. Promise.”

Yaz considered her for a long moment and then shrugged airily. “If you say so,” she sang. And so, once more, Yaz lined herself back up with JJ’s entrance and leaned over her. “You’re gonna be a good girl for me and tell me when you’re close again, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be good for you, Yaz,” insisted JJ. It’s all she wanted. To be good for her.

Yaz smiled sordidly. The toy slid inside JJ with greater ease than it had the last. With a hand braced against the headboard, Yaz continued to ram into her. She wasn’t so slow to work up to a severe stride this time, either, and JJ might have thanked her for it if her grasp on cognisance wasn’t slipping further from reach every time she drove the tip right up against her walls. She was so hopped up on her own pleasure that she couldn’t even hear the moans she was making, though the reverberations in her throat told her that she was, indeed, making them. 

Dark hair curtained Yaz’s face when she tilted her head down to watch JJ’s rapture unfurl across her face like a flower budding in springtime. Yaz bit her lip, muffling her own grunts, in veneration of either JJ’s reactions or her ability to inspire them. 

Luckily, there were no neighbours to speak of, because the bed slammed against the wall with every jerk of Yaz’s hips and even that didn’t quite rival the sheer volume of JJ’s every moan. JJ arched her spine to deepen Yaz’s reach — only for Yaz to pin her roughly back down by her hips, slowing her motions considerably. 

“Don’t do that,” cautioned Yaz.

“Sorry, Yaz,” panted JJ. “Won’t happen again. I just — god, I can’t help myself around you.”

“Yeah, well try,” Yaz said, unaffected by JJ’s flattery. “Your control belongs to me, remember?”

JJ swallowed. “Understood. Sorry.”

With a curt nod, Yaz endeavoured to return to her punishing pace and JJ endeavoured not to give her any more cause to be angry with her. Wrists sore against the stress of her restraints, muscles writhing beneath her skin, perspiration sheening her forehead, JJ let the flux of debilitating physical sensations carry her along on the undertow. No use in swimming against it. Yaz would only drag her back out to sea, anyway. JJ groaned just as Yaz’s tongue returned to her throat.

“You’re so tight, JJ,” lauded Yaz, the words coming out jarred alongside her every thrust. “You feel so good.” 

“Yaz…” It was all JJ could manage; the only word in her vocabulary. Just Yaz. 

“Y’know, I noticed you as soon as you walked in the club. Told the other girls you were all mine,” Yaz panted right into JJ’s ear. “Know why?”

“Wh — why?”

“‘Cause I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle me. Good girls like you never can. But, when people are out of their depth—” Yaz pulled the lobe of JJ’s ear taut between her teeth and spoke around it— “they don’t know what else to do except keep paying. That’s what you are, JJ. A payout. I used you. I’m _still_ using you.”

She dropped two fingers to JJ’s swollen clit and JJ husked a fragmented moan. It was too much. “Yaz, please, I’m gonna come. Please don’t—”

Yaz stopped and JJ all but sobbed against her shoulder. 

“Good girl, JJ.” Yaz tucked a wayward lock of hair behind JJ’s ear and stroked her cheek. 

“Did I do well?” asked JJ, studying Yaz’s face for signs of her approval. 

“You did so well, babe.” 

JJ smiled through the haze of purgatorial pleasure. Yaz’s praise alone made the agony of what Yaz was putting her through seem worth it; made it that much more tolerable whenever she drove her right up to the edge, dangled her in front of the plunging descent, and then yanked her away at the last second. It was torture of the most wonderful kind — JJ was sure she’d never been more aroused — but it was still torture. 

When Yaz pulled out, the slick sound of the strap emancipating from her constricting walls betrayed exactly how much this entire thing was working her up. 

“Look at that, JJ. All for me,” lilted Yaz, dabbing the tip of the toy with her finger and bringing it up to her mouth. She paused with her finger on her tongue and popped a brow at JJ. “Want a taste?”

Blown pupils eclipsing her irises, JJ stared wantonly at Yaz. “Yes,” she croaked. “Please.”

Yaz climbed along JJ’s body until she was kneeling in front of her face. She lifted JJ’s head with a hand behind her hair, and dragged the lubricious tip over her lips. “Open your mouth for me, babe.”

The moment JJ opened her mouth, Yaz slid the toy in along the length of her tongue. JJ sighed happily around the shaft, her own arousal thick on her tongue, and Yaz began to thrust leniently into her. JJ sucked her off noisily, spluttering only slightly when Yaz prodded the back of her throat. It took one look at Yaz’s face for JJ to know how much she revelled in this: JJ, bound and helpless and greedily tasting herself on Yaz’s cock as a supplement to the gratification she herself was being denied. If Yaz thrived on power, then right now she must have been in heaven. 

After a while, Yaz pulled out and ruffled JJ’s hair. “That was really hot.” 

Blushing all over, JJ licked the tang from her lips and swallowed. “Can we go again? Please?”

“I dunno…”

“Please, Yaz,” urged JJ. “ _Please_.”

Yaz tilted her head. “Please, what, babe?” 

If she wanted JJ to beg, JJ would beg. It’s not like she had any dignity left to lose. “Fuck me,” she pleaded. “Let me come. Please, Yaz, I need to. I’ll be so good, I promise. Just let me come.” 

“You think you deserve it?” asked Yaz, reaching back to rub tantalisingly light circles against JJ. She dipped shallowly into her entrance only to coat her fingers and spread JJ’s juices all over her. 

JJ’s eyes rolled back and her head dropped back like a dead weight. “Christ — _please._ Please, keep going. I’m so close, Yaz.” 

Yaz kept going, albeit in a lazy, forbearing fashion. Her fingers might well have been a breeze between JJ’s legs. She grazed them over JJ’s clit a few times, prompting her to sputter out a few more broken begs — and then she whipped her hand away. Before JJ could protest or beg any more, Yaz reached for her binds and pulled them free. JJ’s wrists dropped limply to the mattress and Yaz shuffled off her. 

“Why don’t you be a good girl and get on your hands and knees for me, JJ?” implored Yaz, reaching for the lube and reapplying a generous squeeze. 

Legs trembling and a far cry from steady, JJ rolled over and did as she was told. Seconds later, she felt Yaz press into her from behind. She spread JJ’s legs to her satisfaction and dragged the toy up and down across the length of her a few times, eliciting a shiver which mirrored the exact same motion up and down her spine. Yaz leaned over JJ’s back and picked up one of her hands, guiding it towards the headboard. 

“Hold on tight.” 

With a fast grip on JJ’s waist, Yaz pushed the strap back inside of her. JJ’s knuckles turned white where her hand gripped the headboard and she pressed her lips against a groan. Once the shaft had disappeared inside JJ once again, Yaz grabbed one of her shoulders and thrusted with quick, deep propulsions — each carrying more force than the last. 

The new position had the toy slamming up against her walls with maddening precision. JJ was blind with pleasure and not even remotely responsible for the strained, throaty sounds Yaz’s ceaseless onrush elicited. 

Yaz pressed her chest to JJ’s back, maintaining her hold on both her hip and shoulder to keep her steady amidst a most unlikely velocity. “God, you should see yourself right now, babe,” she said breathlessly, lips brushing against the nape of JJ’s neck. “You look amazing, taking me like this. You’re doing so well.” 

JJ couldn’t extract a single intelligible word from the chaos of her scrambled head. All was pleasure and pain and disorder. And Yaz. Yaz was at the crown of the chaos. Rather, she wore the crown. JJ’s chin dropped to her chest. Her hair was plastered to her face; getting caught in her mouth whenever she parted her lips to cry out or call Yaz’s name. With every surge of Yaz’s hips, JJ knocked the headboard harder against the wall. Through the fog behind her eyes, she thought she could see the paint chipping. 

That was okay. 

That was evidence that all of this had really happened — something she was sure she’d need when she awoke from this visceral wet dream and Yaz left her with nothing but aches and marks and a hefty dent in her bank account. 

Yaz reached around JJ’s thighs and pressed two fingers against her clit. JJ’s head instantly snapped up and she groaned — guttural and needy — when Yaz massaged tight, concentric motions against her pulsing nerves whilst still unabating inside of her. With Yaz’s onslaught incoming from two separate points of attack, JJ felt her resolve failing, like somebody losing their grip on a cliff’s edge finger by finger. 

“Yaz…” she cried. “Yaz, please…” 

“It’s okay, JJ,” Yaz crooned softly into her ear. “You’ve been so good. Let go, when you’re ready.” 

And, after another handful of rapid thrusts and the simultaneous accompaniment of quick fingers at her clit, JJ did just that. She couldn’t see anything, hear anything, smell anything. All her other senses went mute aside from her ability to feel. And she felt it all. 

She felt her orgasm roll over her in waves, she felt the soft edges of senseless vowels turn jagged at the back of her throat; she felt the pliant silicone of Yaz’s shaft drive repeatedly into her walls while she rode her through it and she felt her fingers, too — stubborn in their refusal to relent until the last wave broke and JJ emerged, gasping and disorientated, from beneath the surface. 

JJ slumped forwards and her hand slipped from the headboard, her body held upright only by Yaz’s hand at her waist. Yaz continued to thrust inside her until JJ’s muscles quit jumping and her spasmic tremors subsided. 

By the time she slowed to a stop, JJ’s face was buried in the sheets and she couldn’t be sure if the dampness against her cheek was sweat or drool. Yaz pulled out and released her hold on JJ’s waist — and JJ collapsed completely. She just about had enough sense to roll onto her back, and lay with her unseeing eyes fixed on some indeterminate spot on the ceiling while her chest heaved and her heart slowed. 

“You okay?” asked Yaz. 

Without lifting her head, JJ stuck up a thumb the affirmative and heard Yaz chuckle. It wasn’t until she heard the thud of the strap landing on the floorboards that she turned her head. Yaz was slipping off the side of the bed.

Ignoring the protests her body made, JJ sat up. “Where you goin’?” she wondered around a frown. “It’s my turn, init?”

Yaz turned; looked down at JJ with an amused crease around her eyes. “JJ, after the pounding you’ve just taken, I hardly think you have it in you to go again. You should probably get some rest.”

“You might be a dancer, Yaz, but I’m a runner,” boasted JJ. “Been runnin’ my whole life. And runners have stamina, too. Believe me.”

“Babe…”

“Lemme pay you back, Yasmin,” JJ entreated, holding out her hand. “Please?”

Hesitating only briefly, Yaz contemplated JJ’s hand. JJ made a grabbing motion in thin air like an inarticulate toddler — and gleamed when it prompted a poorly stifled laugh out of Yaz. She gave a stumped shake of her head. Then, capitulating to her both her own desire for pleasure and JJ’s insistence on providing her with it, Yaz took JJ’s hand and let her help her back up onto the bed. 

“Can’t resist me, eh?” goaded JJ, pulling Yaz on top of her until she straddled her lap. 

“Don’t push it, babe.”

“Sorry.” JJ licked her lips. “Can I have a kiss? Feel like y’really deserve a kiss, after that. I mean, not just a kiss. Obviously. We’ll get to the other—”

Pressing her mouth firmly against JJ’s, Yaz pushed her flat against the bed with her hands at her shoulders. Reigning in her respondent grin in order to keep the kiss from becoming too toothy, JJ ran her hands along Yaz’s sides. She kneaded a shapely breast in her palm; worked a stiff nipple between her fingers until Yaz sighed around her tongue and brought her hands up to cradle JJ’s face. JJ liked the kissing. A lot.

Yaz, evidently, was interested in more than just the mashing of mouths. Taking one of JJ’s hands from her waist, she led it instead between her thighs. JJ was elated to discover how wet Yaz was, running her fingers along the length of her in a preliminary stroke and feeling them come away sticky and hot. 

“Inside,” Yaz murmured against her lips. 

Happily obliging, JJ dove one of her fingers into the narrow channel of her. Her finger glided up her with ease and Yaz gasped when she didn’t stop until she reached the knuckle, bracing one of her hands against the duvet. Yaz was so wet, in fact, that when JJ pulled her finger out, she was able to plunge back in with a second right off the bat. 

JJ’s heart did acrobatics. The very notion that she alone had been able to enkindle such abundant arousal in Yaz — the very same Yaz who spent most nights flaunting just how unobtainable and provocatively cavalier she was — was enough to steep her in delirium all over again. It wasn’t a matter of ego or pride. She was just glad. Glad it was her. Glad she got the chance to willingly serve Yaz, if only for a night. 

Every curl of JJ’s fingers elicited another heavenly, mellifluous moan; each of them she swallowed with a deep, impassioned kiss. JJ’s dexterous fingers worked fast and resolute and it wasn’t long before Yaz was bucking her hips against her, tearing herself away from the kiss purely because her ability to reciprocate through her building pleasure was promptly deteriorating. Though they were no longer kissing, they breathed heavily into one another’s open mouths, lips smudging together and noses knocking and eyes meeting in the tropical heat of it all. 

“God, you’re good with your hands,” puffed Yaz.

JJ’s eyes fizzed. “Have to be,” she explained simply. 

“Right. Architect,” recalled Yaz, peering down at the fingers working tireless inside her. “I should shag more architects.” 

“Or just one in particular,” proposed JJ, crooking her fingers against Yaz’s walls and luxuriating in her respondent gasp. “Name rhymes with, uh, hey-hey. Unbelievably attractive. Head over heels for you. Might’ve seen her around.” 

“JJ, babe…” breathed Yaz, trailing briefly off around a low moan. “Fuck — it’s just sex. That’s it.”

JJ pulled her fingers out, figuring there was ample room in Yaz at this point for a fourth finger. Biting her lip in concentration, she squeezed her fingers back up along Yaz’s walls and filled her with a literal handful of herself. Yaz swore under her breath, and JJ continued to fuck her with added zeal. 

“Rome,” said JJ, and now there was an edge of mischief to her voice.

“What?”

“Ever wanted to go to Rome?”

“I—”

“Paris? Seville? Rio?”

Pressing a palm flat against the headboard, Yaz looked down at JJ with a dazed expression on her face. “What are you…?”

“One word and we could be on a flight tomorrow. Anywhere you want,” JJ offered in total earnestness. “The world’s our oyster, Yaz. And you could be the pearl, eh? Or I could buy it for you, if y’like. How does that sound?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Yaz laughed. 

“Nah,” denied JJ. “That’s all you, Yasmin.” 

JJ kissed Yaz’s neck while Yaz moaned into her hair, her body shaking with every jolt of JJ’s wrist. She sucked the skin beneath Yaz’s ear ardently, with every intention of leaving a second mark to accompany the one she’d made in the shower earlier. Once satisfied that she had indeed left her brushstrokes — temporary as they were — on the canvas of Yaz’s skin, JJ swirled her tongue around the lobe of Yaz’s ear. 

“Lemme taste you,” she mumbled against her skin. “I love the way you taste. Please.” 

By way of a response, Yaz wrapped her hand around JJ’s wrist. She pulled back minutely and nodded at JJ, whose face lit up like a sun. After JJ withdrew her fingers, Yaz climbed off her and JJ surged forwards for another kiss, easing her onto her back. When their positions were reversed and JJ was on top of Yaz, she broke away from the kiss. Brushing a strand of hair out of Yaz’s face, JJ sighed at her adoringly, gazing as one might gaze at stars, at a masterpiece hanging in the Louvre, at miracles and wonders and goddesses. 

“You’re stunning, Yasmin,” she whispered. “Properly stunning.” 

Yaz fell silent. For the first time, JJ had rendered her speechless. She reached out a hand to cup JJ’s cheek and ran her thumb across her kiss-swollen lips. After pressing a brief peck to them, she remembered her voice. “Tell me with your tongue, babe.” 

JJ grinned. “Gladly.” 

She backed up — sparing a few tender kisses to Yaz’s neck, breasts, stomach on her way — until she came to a stop with her head between Yaz’s thighs. She curled her arms around them and, after running a tongue across her bottom lip, pulled no further punches. JJ was never one to keep a lady waiting. 

Running the flat of her tongue across Yaz in a few long, sedate motions, she watched Yaz settle in as if for a long and drawn out overture. Only when she was sure she wouldn’t expect it did JJ thrust her tongue inside the plentiful trove of Yaz. Yaz’s juices were heavenly and intoxicating on JJ’s tongue and her surprised moan diviner still. Yaz gripped JJ’s hair and she canted her hips, inciting deeper thrusts of her tongue and offering her ambrosial treasures willingly — unaware of just how priceless a gift it was that she gave. 

Yaz pressed JJ’s face against her without clemency and JJ moaned into her cunt. She burned like a fever that just wouldn’t break and JJ reveled in the scorching heat of it against her face. 

“You’re so good, JJ,” rasped Yaz. “Christ, you’re so good.” 

Galvanised, JJ relocated her tongue and lips to Yaz’s clit and slipped a finger inside her. Yaz groaned, her powerful thighs squeezing against JJ’s ears and her hips keening into her. JJ crooked two fingers inside of her and exercised the muscle of her tongue harder than she’d done in a very long time, pressing on through the ache in her jaw and the cramp in her wrist. It was peripheral. It didn’t matter. JJ was single-minded in her goal — which was, of course, to bring her queen to her knees and then raise her up higher than she’d ever been before. 

Yaz didn’t announce it when she was about to come. She didn’t need to. The hand in JJ’s hair fisted ever tighter and Yaz surged her hips, panting JJ’s name with exacerbated urgency each time. 

Suffocating in the furnace of her, JJ was able to feel the exact moment Yaz came undone. Her fingers were suctioned by Yaz’s clenching walls and she fluttered and pulsed against her fast tongue. Yaz’s whole body trembled with the paroxysms of her muscles and JJ — immersed in the magmatic gorge of her — felt it all. 

She couldn’t breathe and she didn’t care. 

Couldn’t pull away and she didn’t want to. 

She was busy writing sonnets and love letters and bank cheques with her tongue. Seven digits — why not? Yaz was worth at least that. Yaz’s grip in her hair relaxed at last and JJ could have stopped there. But again, she was a people pleaser.

So, she kept going. 

Yaz swore loudly from above — always from above — and fisted her hands in the sheets at either side of her. JJ swilled her tongue around her quivering clit; hummed the blissful sounds of her absolute content into her overflowing gulf. 

Seconds later, Yaz’s body was tensing up again in preparation for another plummet into euphoric oblivion, and that’s exactly where JJ sent her. Yaz came, for the third time that night, with a gravelly, fragmented moan which broke every time her muscles seized up. Her toes curled and her jaw hung open and JJ chased her when her hips flew off the bed until the last of the aftershocks was through. Finally, and only because Yaz tapped out with two weak fingers against JJ’s cheek, JJ withdrew.

She lifted her head and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as if she’d just indulged in the sweetest, messiest dessert and the evidence of it was on her chin and her cheeks and her lips and the tip of her nose. 

Yaz ran a hand through her hair, her lips still parted and her eyes half closed. JJ watched her glistening chest heave; admired her skin glossed in sweat and glowing something seraphic. 

“That okay?” JJ asked. 

Yaz broke into a laugh. “You’re somethin’ else, JJ.”

“Take that as a compliment.” 

“Take it how you like.” 

JJ clambered as delicately as possible over Yaz until their faces hovered centimetres apart. She ached to kiss her again but still didn’t know all the rules to this game. Was kissing allowed now that the sex was through? She frowned at Yaz’s mouth like it was an equation she couldn’t figure out. Apparently, she hadn’t entirely unspooled the enigma of her. That was a shame. 

But then Yaz rolled her eyes, as if following JJ’s train of thought. She wrapped her hands around the back of JJ’s neck and eased her down for a kiss. It didn’t last long, but it was sweet in its chastity. JJ thought so, at least.

“Been a while since I came three times in one night,” said Yaz, nestling her nose against JJ’s and drawing slow figure eights on the nape of her neck with a lethargic fingertip. 

JJ’s smile didn’t quite take. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t forget about me so easily.”

“Safe to say you succeeded, babe.” A look passed over Yaz’s face and her lips twitched like maybe she’d been about to carry on in this vein of the conversation, before diverting course at the very last second. “Mind if I use your bathroom?”

“Had no qualms about helpin’ yourself before,” quipped JJ, but rolled off Yaz nonetheless. 

With a grateful smile, Yaz slipped off the bed and made her way across the apartment. JJ watched her go with a dopey grin on her face until the moment she disappeared around the corner, at which point she collapsed onto her back and sighed. She tried to recall the last time she’d had sex as fulfilling as that and came up short. She tried to recall the last time she’d been so radically infatuated with a total stranger and, again, came up short. 

_It’s just sex,_ she’d said. But then she’d kissed her right after it. 

_You’re something else, JJ._

JJ really hoped that was a good thing. 

Disrupting her giddy, post-coital reverie, JJ heard a door close softly and sat up. “Yaz?” When there was no answer, JJ felt her heart begin to make its slow descent past the far-reaching horizons of her own disappointment — like a setting sun that constantly fooled itself into believing daytime was all there was before giving in to the clutches of true night once more.

On jellied legs, JJ climbed out of bed and went to investigate. 

As suspected, Yaz’s clothes were gone from the bathroom floor. As was she. JJ slumped against the doorframe. She was on the verge of surrendering to the dusk of her dismay, when—

Something on the corner of the bathroom mirror caught her attention. JJ stepped further into the room and her beating, crimson sun began to rise again precisely as she realised what it was. Lipstick. Red, like freshly spilled blood. And it spelled out hope, in the form of an eleven digit phone number painted on the reflective glass. JJ’s smile stretched ear to ear and she pressed a finger to the accompanying kiss print fondly. 

Then (because she was a gentleman, and because she never kept a lady waiting), JJ picked up her phone, entered Yaz’s number, and dialled it without giving her time enough to even leave the building.

Yaz picked up on the third ring. “You said one word, right?” she asked without waiting for JJ’s greeting. 

"One word?" JJ frowned. “Wh—”

“Tokyo,” said Yaz, and the line went dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr @freefallthirteen


	2. two left feet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok this is a multichap now bc i couldn't get this absolute power duo out of my head rest assured every chap will probs have smut but now there's also plot so !! enjoy x

Docile waves lapped at the shore in the far distance, brilliant blue beneath a sky bluer, still. Palms and white parasols littered the creamy sand, which shifted and glittered in the warm zephyr blowing in from town, and Yaz could make out the first of the day’s beachgoers setting down blankets and baskets. 

She leaned over the balustrade on the top floor balcony of the villa and sipped her mimosa from a crystal flute, because — why not? Luxuries here were abundant, and she intended to take full advantage of each of them. 

When she turned, she could spot JJ inside, partially concealed by the billowing white drapes though she was. It had been an insane few months. JJ had delivered on every promise she’d made that first night. She’d flown Yaz around the world — from Tokyo to Berlin to Amsterdam and now to Cuba. She showered her in extravagant gifts, opened up her wallet for her whenever she felt like it, and opened up her legs whenever Yaz felt like it. 

Which was often. 

Yaz’s first impression of JJ had been mostly right: she was a good girl. She followed the rules and she was always polite and _ever_ the gentleman. The one thing Yaz hadn’t seen coming was how phenomenal a lay she was. The sex could be better described as worhsip, on JJ’s end. It was rare that she let Yaz get away with the one orgasm alone and rarer, still, that she didn’t remind Yaz at every opportunity just how totally enamored with her she was. Which was nice, but Yaz made a point of never returning the sentiment lest JJ forget the nature of their setup. 

Stepping back in through the sliding doors, Yaz crossed the airy, sunlit room towards the dining table — at which JJ was sitting on her phone with a laptop open in front of her and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses perched on the edge of her nose. 

It was always a shock to see JJ go from expensive pantsuits and button ups and even finer formal wear to the tee and shorts she was currently sporting, but Yaz always found her to be a delight in either. She hadn’t realised, when JJ said she was an architect, that what she actually meant was that she co-owned her own multi-million dollar architecture firm. 

What this meant was that, a lot of the time while they were away, JJ would spend whole mornings and sometimes parts of the afternoon working. But she’d never let Yaz go bored. She’d book things for her to do, send her away with a wad of cash or even her card, and promise to meet up with her later. It was an arrangement that worked out just fine for Yaz, but sometimes she felt a little sorry for JJ. She wasn’t the best at managing stress, and sometimes it soured her mood while they were supposed to be living the high life together. 

Luckily, Yaz was on hand to help with that. 

Coming up from behind JJ’s seat, she leaned her palms on the edge of the table and ducked her lips to JJ’s neck. JJ jumped in her seat, stammering her way through a sentence she’d been in the middle of, and turned to smile at Yaz. Yaz smiled innocently back.

JJ cleared her throat. “Um, as I were sayin’, the client’s gonna have to compromise on some of their specs if they’re dead set on this — this plot, because—”

Yaz nipped at the sensitive flesh beneath JJ’s ear and smirked against her skin when JJ’s composure faltered. She watched JJ tighten her grip on her phone and press on. If she thought she was getting off that easy, she had another thing coming. Yaz slipped her hand beneath the collar of JJ’s shirt, worked her fingers beneath the fabric of her sports bra, and pinched an already hard nipple between her knuckles. She wished she could have taken a picture of JJ’s face just then. 

Yaz kneaded the nipple between her fingers, breathing heavily into JJ’s available ear and flicking her tongue across the bright red shell of it. If her face was this warm already, she couldn’t wait to see how the rest of her was faring. 

“Uh, I’ve been on the phone with the land developers all morning,” JJ ploughed on admirably, eyes widening when Yaz yanked her chair all the way out from under the table and rounded to the front of her, “and they said there’s nothing that can be done about the… yeah. No, I know. That’s what I told them.” 

Dropping to her knees, Yaz popped the top button of JJ’s shorts open and maintained eye contact while she slid the zipper slowly down. JJ gulped, aggravating her lower lip between her teeth and, if the look on her face was any indicator, only half paying attention to whatever was being said on the other line. Yaz tapped JJ’s thigh. Obedient as ever, JJ lifted her weight from the chair so that Yaz could pull her shorts and boxers down. After untangling them from around her ankles, she dropped them to one side and dragged JJ to the edge of her seat by the back of her knees. 

She spared a glance up; made a phone gesture with her thumb and pinky. _Don’t let me keep you_ , she was saying. JJ blinked back to sense. “Oh, sorry — yes, I’ll forward you the email when it comes through,” she said, eyes never straying from Yaz. 

After spreading JJ’s thighs, Yaz endowed a wet trail of kisses upon her inner leg. She latched onto the crease of her upper thigh and JJ weaved her fingers through her hair, her answers on the phone becoming increasingly more clipped and faraway. Yaz could feel the heat of her against her cheek. It never took much, where JJ was concerned. She loved that about her. So easy to ruin. 

When Yaz finally stopped toying with her and ran the flat of her tongue along the length of her, JJ couldn’t hold back the harsh curse that followed. “Sorry, sorry,” she winced. “I, uh, spilled my tea.” 

Yaz’s fun began in earnest, then. 

With several broad strokes of her tongue, she set about demolishing JJ’s feeble hold on poise. Yaz played with her a bit, to begin with — drawing wider circles around her labia with her tongue and only occasionally letting the tip chance over her clit. Every time it did, JJ’s hand in her hair tensed and the pitch of her voice wobbled. Dark eyes laden with mischief, Yaz peered up at JJ and smiled against her. A brief notice. _Get ready._

Apparently, it was a notice JJ didn’t translate very well. 

Next thing, Yaz attached herself to JJ’s clit with her fast tongue and JJ hastily pressed the phone to her shoulder to muffle her successive moan. She tore her glasses off her face and they went skidding across the surface of the table when she tossed them aside. 

Hand unsteady, she lifted the phone back up to her ear. “Um, there’s a — there’s a leak in the roof. Lemme call you back.” Her phone went skidding right after her glasses and she brought her hand back down to rest leniently against the back of Yaz’s head. “Fuck, Yaz,” she sighed. “And you say I’m somethin’ else?”

By way of response, Yaz draped one of JJ’s thighs over her shoulder and slipped a finger inside of her while she continued her sloppy attack on the throbbing nerves between her lips. JJ bit down on her fist, only for Yaz to reach up and pull it away. 

“I like it better when you’re loud,” she said, a second finger chasing the first and each of them curling in come-hither motions against JJ’s walls. 

“Sorry, Yaz,” gasped JJ, head lolling against the back of the chair. The next time Yaz crooked her fingers, JJ didn’t bother suppressing her moan. 

“There’s a good girl,” Yaz crooned. “Nice and loud, for me.” 

And she was. 

Yaz returned her tongue to JJ’s clit and continued to pump her fingers steadily inside of her and, whenever she picked up the pace of one, she picked up the pace of another. Every time she did, JJ’s moans became louder, breathier, more drawn out. Yaz could feel the physical restraint it took for JJ to keep from clenching the hand in Yaz’s hair; the way her fingers trembled against the need to curl into fists. She wouldn’t dare. 

By the time her hand and jaw were working at full capacity, Yaz’s fingers were glazed in another rush of JJ’s treacly arousal and the warmth she gave off was akin to the solid wall of heat around a November bonfire. 

Their eyes met — JJ’s narrowed beneath the tight knit of her brow and Yaz’s glittering with both complacency and debauchment. JJ gazed at Yaz with reverence. It was the same way she always looked at her, whether they were having sex or exploring the city or even making benign conversation. It was the look of somebody fully wrapped around Yaz’s finger and all too aware of it. 

But soon, her eyes began to fog and she tore them away. JJ’s head tipped back and her stomach began to tense, all while Yaz remained committed to a noisy, greedy, all-in performance between her legs. 

JJ came with a thick moan. Her muscles jumped and her hips keened violently off the seat and Yaz didn’t slow, pressing JJ firmly back down with her free hand. She was avaricious in her resolve to ride JJ all the way through to the other side of her climax, lapping wolfishly at her clit and pressing deeper against her walls with every furl of her fingers. 

Only when JJ slumped against the chair and dropped her slack hand from Yaz’s head did Yaz relent. Licking her lips, she pulled her fingers out and sat back on her ankles. 

“Morning, babe,” she purred. 

Eyes still half closed, JJ began to laugh. “Oh, Yaz. They really broke the mould when they made you, eh?” 

Yaz got to her feet and leaned over JJ, curling her hand over the back of her seat and raising her slick fingers to her lips. With an indulgent smile, JJ took Yaz’s wrist, guiding her fingers into her mouth and along the length of her tongue. She sucked them clean for her. When Yaz withdrew, JJ smacked her lips. 

“Tangy. Nice.” 

“I think so,” agreed Yaz, mussing JJ’s hair. She was forever straightening it and Yaz was forever messing it right back up. JJ never once complained. “I’m gonna go down to the beach for a bit, babe.” 

Only, just as she made a move for the stairs, JJ pulled her back in by her waist and sat her down on her knee. “You’re forgetting somethin’, aren’t you?”

“Right. My bad.” Yaz cupped JJ’s chin and tilted her face upwards for a kiss, and Yaz couldn’t be sure if JJ was purring because of the brief slip of tongue or because she could taste herself on Yaz’s lips. Probably, both. 

“That were lovely,” grinned JJ once Yaz pulled back, “but I weren’t askin’ for a kiss.” She grabbed her wallet from the table and rifled through the thick stack of cash she forever had on hand. “I’m gonna be on back to back calls for a few hours, so—” she pressed a wad of notes into Yaz’s hand and smiled at her— “why don’t you go ahead and treat yourself?”

Yaz folded the money into her bra. “What d’you want me to buy, babe?”

“Anythin’ you want.” JJ kissed Yaz’s cheek before she lifted herself from her lap. “Oh — can y’bring me back some lunch? Haven’t had a chance to eat yet.” 

“I did tell you to get up earlier so you’d have time,” scolded Yaz. Only once the words left her lips did she realise what she was saying; how nauseatingly domestic she sounded. What did she care if JJ forgot to eat breakfast? It had nothing to do with her. 

But JJ didn’t seem to notice; offering a bashful shrug as she reached for her shorts. “Just wanted a few more minutes in bed with you.” 

* * *

Havana was a city rich in culture and vibrance. Salsa music drifted out of lively bars and restaurants and even out of the wide open windows of people’s homes. It carried through the dusty streets on a temperate breeze, as did the mouthwatering smells of street food: tostones, pastellitos, croquettes — and lots of fresh fruit from various bustling stalls in the market.

Colourful colonial buildings lined the roads, and parked on most kerbsides were vintage cars dating back to the 50’s — mostly convertible Mustangs of bright red and yellow. They hired one to take them into town, and JJ conversed in fluent Spanish with the cigar-smoking driver; her arm around Yaz in the backseat the whole time. She’d occasionally break away from their conversation to point something out to Yaz, whispering in her ear as though she were trading secrets rather than gushing about the architecture.

When she made the driver ride past the Capitolio Nacional — a building apparently modelled on Paris’ Panthéon — JJ was practically buzzing in her seat; explaining that it took five thousand workers three years to build and then looking to Yaz to gauge her reaction. 

Yaz didn’t really have one, but she tried to act impressed. JJ was passionate about it, and it was the least she could do to feign interest after everything she did for her. She’d also have been lying to say that JJ’s enthusiasm wasn’t sometimes contagious and always endearing. JJ could go on and on and on if left uninterrupted, and sometimes Yaz let her. 

Although, whenever she began to zone out and found herself watching the gleam of delight behind JJ’s eyes or the way her hands gesticulated spiritedly or the way her brows lifted in awe, she abruptly snapped the two of them out of it and steered the course of conversation towards something JJ was less passionate about. Tried to, anyway. 

As it turned out, JJ had a lot of passions, and if there was something she didn’t know much about then she asked questions and researched it and studied up until she was an expert. Her curiosity was insatiable.

Once, Yaz asked her why she felt the need to know everything.

“It’s not about the need to know everythin’, Yaz,” she’d explained. “It’s about never wantin’ to find myself with nothin’ to add to a conversation.”

But Yaz still hadn’t understood. “Why are you so obsessed with people liking you?”

The way JJ had looked at her, then — like somehow Yaz had let her down or disappointed her — stayed with her a lot longer than she’d have cared to admit. “I just don’t like silences I can’t fill,” she’d responded quietly, and hadn’t said much of anything after that. 

So, yes, more often than not, Yaz let her get carried away with herself. She could understand JJ’s aversion to silence. She shared in it. 

Thankfully, they were at low risk of running into such problems in Havana. After a light dinner at a tiny, hole-in-the wall restaurant where they were offered rum and a cigar each after their meal (they drank the rum and refused the cigars), they wandered through the high-charged city until they happened across a lively salsa bar with an outdoor courtyard cleared for dancing. An arched colonnade bordered the perimeter of the patio — mud-brown stucco like the rest of the building — and those who weren’t dancing sat getting merry on rum and cocktails inside. 

Yaz being a dancer, she was instantly drawn towards the cavorting crowd in the courtyard. She grabbed JJ’s hand and tried to lead her out through the archway, but JJ’s feet were planted firm. 

“You go ahead,” she insisted. “Know what I’m like — two left feet.” 

Yaz rolled her eyes, sliding her hands up the shoulders of JJ’s linen shirt. “It’s salsa, JJ. I can’t dance alone.”

Lips pursed, JJ locked her arms around Yaz’s waist and glanced past her at the revelry beyond. “I don’t wanna embarrass you, though.”

“When am I ever embarrassed by you?” challenged Yaz; baffled at the supposition. Yaz wasn’t a guilty pleasure kind of person. It was her firm belief that if it made her feel good, she had no cause to be ashamed of it. JJ fell under such a purview. They weren’t together, and Yaz didn’t want that — but she definitely made Yaz feel good. In her opinion, JJ deserved to understand that. She deserved to believe it. 

“Uh, well—”

Yaz fisted her hands in JJ’s shirt, dragged her close, and kissed her. It was a proper kiss. A bedroom kind of kiss that prompted a few wolf whistles from the surrounding patrons, caused JJ’s hair (once again) to become unruly atop her head, and left her lips covered in gloss by the time Yaz eventually let her go. She nestled her nose against JJ’s and smiled with her eyes alone. “Would I do that if I were embarrassed by you, JJ?”

JJ’s mouth hung agape. Her eyes were slow to open and her cheeks were suffused with a touch of pink that didn’t come from the rum. Yaz reached for her hand again when she realised that she probably wasn’t going to get an answer out of her after that. 

“C’mon, babe. I’ll show you how it’s done.” 

JJ stumbled dumbly after Yaz as she dragged her into the kinetic throng of people. Taking the lead, Yaz walked her through the steps slowly with one hand clasped in hers and one at her shoulder. She could see that JJ was trying her hardest, and when they walked through the movements she got it down pretty well. Only, as they picked up the tempo, JJ struggled to keep up with Yaz’s pace and forgot the steps almost as soon as she’d picked them up. 

“Babe, you’re supposed to be following _my_ lead,” Yaz chided playfully when they both made to step forwards at the same time. 

“But how do I know where you’re gonna go?”

“I told you, pay attention to my hands.”

“Trust me, I am. Probably why I’m so distracted.” 

“Cute. Let’s go again. I’m leading, yeah?”

“Always.”

They tried again, and again both JJ’s lack of rhythm and her predilection for getting lost in Yaz’s hands and eyes and — Yaz didn’t fail to notice — the low cut of her dress all served to make of her an ungainly dance partner. But Yaz wasn’t embarrassed by her. She wasn’t embarrassed when she bumped into the couple behind her and she wasn’t embarrassed when she stumbled over a plant pot and only avoided falling because Yaz was quick to catch her. On the contrary, she found it adorable. 

Of course, the moment she caught herself thinking like that, her laugh faded into a frown and the hand on JJ’s shoulder fell away. JJ squeezed her other one apologetically. 

“Sorry. I’m doin’ awful, aren’t I?”

Yaz separated their hands, looking anywhere but at JJ’s big, sorry eyes. “Um, can you give me some cash?” she asked — because sometimes she thought they both needed reminding what they were and what they definitely were not. It was merely a mutually beneficial arrangement. Not-quite-friends with lots of benefits. No matter how much JJ hoped for more.

“What for?” asked JJ, already pulling her wallet out of her back pocket.

“Gonna get us a drink.” 

Once she was at the bar, Yaz looked over her shoulder and spotted JJ teetering at the brink of the merriment with her hands in her pockets. She watched the dancers; seemed to be studying their movements. Committing them to memory, Yaz thought. She sighed. 

Yaz made it clear to JJ what the nature of their setup was from day one and, to JJ’s credit, she never told Yaz what she could or couldn’t do or even asked for more than she was willing to give. That’s not what made it difficult. Actually, what made it difficult was how good to Yaz she was. Unfailingly good and polite and patient and kind and so, so generous. 

But Yaz didn’t do relationships. 

She’d worked at the club long enough to know how the love game played out. Love turned to hate or resentment or outright indifference. People cheated and lied and turned nasty. Yaz herself had always been treated as less than worthy for one reason or another — ever since she was a teeanger. Bullied, belittled, overlooked. And the way people treated her now, like she was a thing, was very much not the compliment they seemed to think it was. That said, she understood it. Accepted it, even. It was easier to take than heartbreak.

Yaz wasn’t dumb enough to expect anything more from anyone. Not even JJ. Nobody ever entered a relationship expecting it to fall apart, but that was how most of them went. And JJ was pretty enough, rich enough, interesting enough that she’d soon realise that wasting her time with a stripper she’d picked up in a club wasn’t a relationship worth pursuing. She could have anyone she wanted. The second she realised that, Yaz would be out in a heartbeat. 

So, she’d have her fun with JJ for as long as it was fun — then, she’d move on. They both would.

“No offence,” drawled a young man with a thick Cuban accent and dark, slicked back hair, plucking Yaz from her reverie and placing her squarely back in the room, “but your dance partner is, uh—”

“Terrible?” finished Yaz, accepting two rum and cokes from the bartender and handing over her cash. 

“To put it bluntly, yes.” The man flashed his teeth in a conspiratorial grin which Yaz didn’t return. “If you want to dance with somebody who can keep up…” He offered his hand.

Yaz glanced at JJ. She was watching from across the room with a small frown. Yaz almost denied the man’s offer — but again, sometimes they both needed the reminder. Instead of taking his hand, she made her own way to the dance floor and handed JJ their drinks on the way past with a brief, “Won’t be long, babe.” 

Her new dance partner was a lot more competent than JJ, but she didn’t laugh like she did with her and the way he kept leering at her was more than a little off putting. Yaz turned her head just in time to see JJ slipping out through the front door. She couldn’t help but feel bad. 

As Yaz watched the door swing shut behind her, she felt the man’s hand drop from her shoulder to her backside and grope roughly. _Typical._ On instinct, she slapped him hard enough for half the bar to hear and he staggered backwards with an undignified yelp. The place erupted into laughter and jeers. 

“Perv,” she spat, and made for the exit with a roll of her eyes.

She found JJ sitting at a picnic bench in front of the bar beneath a criss-crossing of string lights and directly in the warm orange glow of a lantern. She sipped her rum and coke — watching a couple on an adjacent bench laugh together and touch one another’s arms, hands, thighs with practiced ease. Her wistful expression melted the moment Yaz walked into her periphery and she lifted the corners of her mouth into a forced smile. 

“Hiya, Yaz,” she said, swinging her legs over the bench so that she was facing her. “Heard some commotion inside — everythin’ okay?”

“Oh, someone just dropped a glass,” lied Yaz, wanting to avoid upsetting JJ any further. “Why you sitting out here?”

JJ looked down at her feet. “Um. Bit warm in there, that’s all.”

They were both liars, apparently. Yaz came to a stop between JJ’s legs and JJ rested her hands on the sides of her exposed thighs. She looked up and searched Yaz, though Yaz couldn’t say what she was searching for or if she found it. 

Wordless, she tried to smooth JJ’s hair down a bit where she’d messed it up during their kiss and JJ’s eyes fell closed at the contact. Yaz half wondered if she should stop being so physically intimate with JJ outside the bedroom, but it was just second nature to her. She was physical with people for a living; it hardly even registered to her. JJ, she was sure, didn’t share such sentiments.

“Want me to call a car?” asked JJ. 

Yaz shook her head. “Nah. Let’s go for a walk.”

* * *

The night was still warm when they ambled leisurely along the Malecón. 

The water was jet black; it was easier to hear than it was to discern from the sky. Often, they passed small groups of youths sitting atop the seawall, or else lovers holding hands and leaning their heads against one another’s shoulders as they gazed at the stars and the bright halfmoon. 

Their path was illuminated by both bright lamp posts positioned at frequent intervals and the soft glow of lit windows pouring out of buildings crowding the opposite sidewalk. They followed the seawall towards the beach surrounding their villa, arms and shoulders occasionally bumping as they walked.

“So,” began JJ after a long, but not entirely uncomfortable, lacuna in their conversation, “home, tomorrow. What you gonna be up to?”

“Back at the club on Thursday.”

“Again?”

“I don’t wanna lose my job, JJ.”

JJ frowned at the ground. “But you don’t need it, anymore.” She’d paid Yaz’s student loans off for her just a few weeks after they met. As far as JJ was aware, that was her only reason for dancing — but that was only because Yaz had never made an effort to tell her otherwise.

“I don’t wanna become dependent on you, JJ,” sighed Yaz. “I’ve told you this. Many times.” 

“But I’m a dependable person,” JJ argued, only half joking. 

“Everybody is until they’re not, babe.” 

“Don’t you trust anyone? Ever?” wondered JJ, as the promenade gave way to sand and they set off across the beach with their villa in sight. 

“I trust myself. Why do I need to trust anybody else? That’s how you get let down,” reckoned Yaz. “Everybody in the world has got their own back first and foremost. You can deny it ‘til you’re blue, but it’s true. We all look out for number one. Some people are just more honest about it than others.” 

“You callin’ me a liar?” teased JJ, nudging Yaz’s elbow. 

“The only person you ever lie to is yourself, JJ,” smiled Yaz. “Got yourself convinced everything you do is selfless. Tell me, why do you pay me?”

“Why—” JJ stopped short a few metres from the path to their villa and worked a perplexed frown onto her face— “Yaz, I give you things because I like you. I give you things because you deserve them and because it makes you happy. I’m not _paying_ you. Not like you’re implying.”

Stepping up to JJ, Yaz cupped her neck and rested her thumbs on her cheeks. “Babe, like I said, the only one you ever lie to is yourself. You give me things because you want me to stay. You probably give me things because it gets you off to see me wearing them or using them or flaunting them. Makes you feel like I’m yours, right? Also makes you feel like you’re mine. So, don’t pretend that your generosity is entirely selfless. We’re both too clever to know that’s not true. We both get things out of this.” 

“Doesn’t get me off,” JJ mumbled petulantly, but Yaz noticed that she didn’t make an attempt to deny or even address any of the other points she’d made.

“Oh, it definitely does,” goaded Yaz, simpering at JJ’s sudden allergy to eye contact. She leaned in until their lips brushed lightly together with every word she spoke. “Look at me, JJ.”

Reluctant though she was, JJ tore her eyes away from the ocean and fixed them instead on Yaz. Neither of them closed their eyes when they kissed. Not at first. Yaz touched her lips once, twice, three times to JJ’s. Teasing. Pulling back each time JJ parted her lips to reciprocate. JJ stared at her and Yaz could see the virtue behind her eyes flickering out like a failing neon sign. Only when it went completely dark did Yaz close her eyes and capture JJ’s lips between her own sincerely.

JJ surrendered in full to Yaz’s kiss, parting her lips in an eager invitation to Yaz’s tongue — which she willingly provided. The moment she did, one of JJ’s hands fell from her hip to squeeze the top of her thigh, fingers skirting just below the hem of her dress, and Yaz lifted a brow. 

Two could play at that game. 

Over the fabric of JJ’s shirt, Yaz groped at her breast. A full handful; no lenience whatsoever. JJ grunted. The kiss deepened. As if attempting to one-up Yaz, JJ slipped her hand up the back of her dress and cupped her and then Yaz’s hand was up her shirt and JJ dropped her other hand to Yaz’s backside and they were in a frenzied, unashamed grope-off neither were keen on backing down from. But Yaz had no intention of letting JJ win. 

She set to work on the buttons of JJ’s shirt, and JJ didn’t even realise until it was halfway open. Panting, she broke away from the kiss and looked down. “What — shouldn’t we go inside?”

“Nope.” Yaz unbuttoned the rest of her shirt and slid it down her arms. 

JJ surveyed the beach, pupils flitting rapidly from left to right. Yaz wasn’t so concerned with being spotted; only with winning the game. Tugging down the zipper at the side of her dress, Yaz let the garment pool in the sand and stepped out of it. JJ’s lips parted and the innermost edges of her brows lifted.

Even now, after everything, JJ still got very easily flustered when Yaz was so brazen about nudity. Especially her own. Yaz kicked off her wedges and yanked JJ back in by her belt for another heated kiss. She teased JJ’s bottom lip between her teeth and unbuckled her belt, all while JJ’s hands continued their urgent assault on Yaz’s backside. When Yaz dropped to her knees, she didn’t have to look up to know that JJ’s eyebrows would have disappeared past her hairline. But all she did was unlace her boots and tug them off her feet. 

Relishing in the poorly-concealed whine of disappointment JJ made when she got back to her feet, Yaz stepped out of reach of JJ’s hands when she tried to pull her back in and instead backed up towards the ocean with an elfish twinkle in her eye. Yaz reached for the bra clasp behind her back as she edged closer to the water; JJ in tow as if tethered to her by an invisible string.

When her feet splashed into the mild fringe of the ocean, Yaz stopped and waited for JJ to catch up. “Think you’re wearing too many clothes, babe,” she mused, trailing her finger across the hem of her underwear. “Allow me.”

Yaz curled her fingers around the waistband of JJ’s boxers and pulled them down her legs, grazing her fingers along toned calves and milky thighs on her way back up. When she reached for the bottom of her sports bra, JJ lifted her arms without protest, and Yaz was careful not to catch her earrings as she peeled the garment off her body and left her totally naked. Moonlight doused her flawless, pale skin in an otherworldly glow and Yaz basked in it.

She explored every inch of JJ with her eyes; knew that she was watching as her pupils flitted from the jut of her collarbones to the soft peaks of her breasts and then landed on the linchpin of their relationship; the foundation upon which their affair was built. The only thing anybody ever thought with. 

“Aren’t you gonna take yours off?” asked JJ, nodding to Yaz’s lingerie. “Level the playin’ field?”

But Yaz wasn’t interested in levelling the playing field. No, all she was interested in was staying on top. At all times. “Nope,” she smirked, and dragged her willing conquest into the sea.

* * *

By noon the next day, Yaz and JJ were on a plane home.

Rather, they were on a private jet home. 

No matter how many times they flew, it never felt any less surreal to Yaz. Along one side of the jet ran a plush, cream sofa — which Yaz was presently sprawled on top of — and several armchairs fashioned from the same material sat facing one another at opposite ends of the space. 

The cabinets were made of dark wood with a chocolate finish, as was the base of the glass table at the centre of the jet and the box inside which a large TV screen was encased. An ice bucket and champagne bottle sat on the table, plus a bowl full of fresh fruit neither woman had touched. The same couldn’t be said for the champagne — which was already a quarter shy of full. 

Yaz, who’d been semi-dozing for the past half hour, didn’t notice that JJ had closed her laptop and taken a respite from her work until she was standing over her. At the sudden obstruction of light, Yaz opened her eyes and frowned up at JJ. She had a box of scrabble to hand. 

“Fancy a game?” 

“Scrabble? Really?” Yaz chuckled at JJ’s eager nod of the head and sat up, swinging her legs off the side of the sofa to make room for her. “Better hand me another glass of champagne, babe.” 

As anticipated, JJ was extremely competitive and very by the book. Namely, by the dictionary. Whilst she racked up an impressive score, Yaz decided it’d be fun to exasperate her by making the dirtiest possible words her letters would allow for whether they were technically allowed or not. It _started_ as a way to exasperate her, at any rate, but when JJ rolled her shirtsleeves up and bared her toned arms and the expensive Rolex on her wrist — something about the sight of it got Yaz very worked up very fast. What could she say? JJ had nice arms.

Yaz was well pleased with herself when she pulled a ‘P’ out of the bag and managed to make her most obscene word yet, but JJ only noted down her score and said, “Excellent! I love cats! More of a dog person, to be honest, but I never pass a feline without saying hello.”

A short while later, she tried for another hint and added a ‘D’ to the start of the word ‘ripping’ — but JJ only commended her for managing to land on the triple word score; entirely oblivious to the incredulous look Yaz shot her way. Yaz tried to gauge JJ in order to discern whether she was being wilfully ignorant of Yaz’s attempts at provocation because, _surely,_ nobody she knew to be so filthy could simultaneously be so childlike in their naivety. 

It might have vexed Yaz more, had she not already come to expect it from JJ. It was like she unwittingly turned the other cheek on anything untoward unless her mind was already in the gutter. 

So, after a while, she opted for a slightly more direct approach. 

Once she finally pulled out the ‘F’ she’d been holding out for, she arranged six letters on the board and sat back, turning her head to ascertain JJ’s reaction with a suggestive quirk of her brow. This _had_ to do it. 

“Um. ‘Fuck me’ is two words, Yaz. I can’t count that,” frowned JJ with a shake of her head. “Honestly, it’s like you’ve never played—”

“Oh, my _god_ ,” groaned Yaz, slumping back against the sofa with her face in her hands. She peered at JJ through the gaps in her fingers and dragged them down her face. “Babe, please — tell me you’re joking.”

Flummoxed, JJ’s pupils jumped between each of Yaz’s eyes as if to search for clues or, at the very least, a hint. “I don’t understand,” she said, in the dejected tone of somebody who believed there was a joke being made at their expense. “What’ve I done wrong?”

Softening, Yaz put a hand on JJ’s back and sat up. “Take a good, long look at the board, JJ,” she prompted, nodding her head towards the table. “Specifically, the words _I_ put down. You’re good at riddles and problem solving, right? Tell me if you notice a pattern. Take your time. Maybe you’ll work it out before we land, in—” Yaz picked JJ’s wrist up and checked the time— “six hours.” 

“Pattern?” JJ leaned over the board and retrieved her glasses from the front pocket of her shirt, pulling the board to the edge of the table for a better look. 

She mouthed each of the words as she read them in her head, one of many of her habitual quirks. She did it while reading the morning paper, menus, text messages; she sometimes even did it when she was thinking too loud. Not that Yaz had noticed.

Moments later, JJ’s mouth was halfway through shaping the word, ‘finger’, when she froze with her tongue still coiled around the hard ‘g’. She blinked. Clearing her throat, she folded up her glasses and set them on the table. “Oh.” 

“Yeah. Oh,” parroted Yaz, exasperation yielding to relief now that the other shoe had finally dropped — landing somewhere in the middle of the North Atlantic when it no doubt would have crashed back in Bermuda for anyone else on the planet. Granted, JJ wasn’t much like anyone else on the planet. None Yaz had met. 

JJ turned to face her, an embarrassed grimace on her face. “Dunno how I missed that. Sorry,” she apologised. “It’s just — I think sometimes you just have to spell things out for me.” 

“I _literally_ spelled it out,” laughed Yaz. “It’s Scrabble, babe. That’s the game.”

“Right.” JJ scratched the back of her neck, ducking her head so that when she looked up at Yaz, she resembled a shamefaced kitten ploying for forgiveness. It was a forgiveness Yaz would all too easily dole out, just as soon as she got what she was after. “So, um — you’re — you want to—”

“I want you to fuck me. Right now,” deadpanned Yaz. She wasn’t going to risk mincing her words or inspiring any further confusion. She cupped the back of JJ’s neck and scratched her skin lightly. JJ squirmed at the touch. As Yaz had quickly come to learn, fingernails at the back of her neck was something of a weakness of JJ’s. She could probably get her to denounce every single one of her principles if she asked her to do so while scratching her neck. In a voice sweet as toffee, Yaz asked, “Have I put that in terms you can understand, JJ?” 

Nodding mutely, JJ’s gaze flicked intermittently towards Yaz’s lips — lips she stretched into a libertine smile — and turned her body to the side until they were facing one another. Yaz was pleasantly surprised when JJ jumped right in and captured her in a full-hearted kiss. 

She crawled on top of her until Yaz was on her back and JJ was straddling her legs, running her hands up along her bare thighs, across the fabric of her shorts and blouse, and towards her breasts. Just as she reached them, the jet hit a bit of turbulence and shuddered violently, scattering half the tiles from the scrabble board across the floor and edging their flutes towards the edge of the table. JJ’s head whipped up and her eyes went wide. 

“It’s okay, babe,” Yaz said, cupping her neck and drawing her back down. JJ wasn’t the biggest fan of flying. She made no secret of it. “It’s just turbulence. One in eleven million, remember?” It was a statistic JJ often repeated to herself under her breath like a mantra during rocky flights: the odds of dying in a plane crash. 

“One in eleven million,” she repeated shakily, eyeing the window even as she did so. 

“You okay? We can stop, if—”

“No. Definitely not stoppin’,” refused JJ with an adamant shake of her head. She lowered herself, pacified some by either the break in turbulence or Yaz’s hands in her hair. “Not when you’re lookin’ at me like that, Yasmin.”

“You know, you’re the only person who calls me that outside the club.”

“It’s a beautiful name,” lauded JJ, lips dusting across Yaz’s as she unbuttoned her blouse, “for a beautiful woman. Seriously, have I told you lately—”

“Yes,” interrupted Yaz, and she kissed JJ. Open mouthed and impassioned. Enough, she hoped, to keep her out of her head and distract her from her inconvenient fear of flying. 

When she worked the last of Yaz’s buttons open, JJ moved her kisses from her lips to her throat and slipped a hand under her bra. Yaz could see her fingers beneath the sheer fabric; knew to expect it when she took a nipple between her thumb and index finger and tweaked it sharply. Her rightful anticipation didn’t stop her successive grunt; nor did it keep her from tightening her grip in JJ’s hair. 

Continuing to tease her nipple, JJ sucked at the skin over Yaz’s collarbone, and then at the supple flesh of her breast just above the fabric of her bra. She knew not to leave marks anymore; it didn’t go down well at the club, but she seemed to have worked out the exact amount of time she could spend on any one patch of skin before blemishing her. And she milked every last second; worshipped as much of her as she could for as long as she could.

By the time JJ began to mouth at Yaz’s free nipple over her bra, one of her hands had dropped to Yaz’s crotch. JJ groped her over the denim and Yaz squeezed her thighs around her hand with a whispered moan. Squeeze as she might, the denim of her shorts was too thick a material to allow for the precise touch she needed.

“Stop fucking about, JJ.”

“Sorry,” JJ mumbled against her breast. 

JJ flicked Yaz’s button open in one swift motion and then she dove her hand inside her shorts. When her fingers pressed up against the moist fabric of her underwear, JJ smiled gladly around the peak of Yaz’s breast. She always got so irrationally giddy when she felt how wet she made her, as if she still couldn’t believe it was really all for her. Her inability to acknowledge how attractive — how desirable — she was constantly threw Yaz for a loop. At the same time, she didn’t think she’d be so fond of JJ if she were like any of the other arrogant, rich pricks she dealt with on the daily. She probably wouldn’t dote on Yaz so much, either.

Once she’d coaxed enough arousal from Yaz to thoroughly ruin her underwear — a pair she was sure JJ would be quick to replace — JJ slid her fingers past the hem and dipped the tip of one into the warm, bountiful well of her. 

“Fuck,” she muttered. “You’re soaked.”

“All for you, babe,” said Yaz, bending her knees at either side of JJ and pulling her back up. She sought out JJ’s lips exactly as JJ plunged a finger inside of her, causing Yaz’s mouth to fall open around JJ’s tongue. 

JJ kissed her through her moans and worked up to a brisk pace between her thighs in no time at all. Two fingers curled inside her and Yaz wasn’t the only one who moaned. The obscene, slippery sounds her fingers made — which fiercely rivalled the quiet hum of jet engines — worked JJ up so easily it was laughable. She swirled her tongue around Yaz’s like she was tasting a fine wine and when her third finger nestled in, JJ happily swallowed Yaz’s thick, wet moan. The kiss fizzed with champagne and hedonism and coincided with a hardly perceptible bout of turbulence that JJ didn’t even react to. 

When Yaz raked her hands over JJ’s back, JJ picked up the pace exponentially. She delved deeper and thrusted faster and Yaz’s whole body shuddered beneath her. JJ returned her mouth to Yaz’s nipple, forcing the fabric of her bra further up her chest to allow for unimpeded access.

“You’re so good, JJ,” panted Yaz, head tilted back and eyes half closed. “So good.” 

Incentivised, JJ pinched Yaz’s nipple between her teeth and tongue and sucked noisily against her skin while her fingers continued to graft indefatigably inside her. After a handful more thrusts against the far reaches of her walls, Yaz felt herself begin her ascension towards the apotheosis of her gratification. Somehow, JJ could always sense this without ever being told. 

Alternating her zealous administrations between nipples, JJ watched Yaz’s face and rubbed her fingers against her clit. When Yaz swore, JJ’s face lit up. She pressed on with vigour. Blind with mounting pleasure, Yaz dragged JJ up by her hair and crashed into her mouth. It was clumsy and desperate and wet. In the end, Yaz let her head fall back against the seat and JJ ran her tongue down her throat as she slammed into her. Yaz looked down. She watched JJ’s muscles and veins strain across her athletic arms; watched her own underwear tent against rapid fingers. 

The moment Yaz’s body began to tense up in anticipation of her climax, JJ lifted her head. She liked to watch Yaz’s face when she came. Yaz held her eyes for as long as she was able, golden browns jumping base between every individual detail of her face and lips twisted into a lopsided grin, but soon the string from which she had been dangling over the edge snapped and she went free falling into bliss from six miles above ground. 

Yaz clamped her eyes shut and dug her fingers into JJ’s shoulders, and when she opened her mouth to let out a low moan, she felt JJ’s breath merging hot and heavy with her own while her fingers worked tirelessly between her legs in an effort to both ride her through her first orgasm and then work her up to a second without respite. 

“ _Fuck_ , JJ,” she gasped, too groggy to tell when one orgasm ended and the other began or if it wasn’t just one long, continuous stream of intense pleasure. 

But what she did realise, as she came on a private jet amongst the clouds surrounded by top-shelf champagne and decadence beyond belief and at the hands of someone who looked past it all and straight through to her, was that this really was the kind of life she could almost get used to living — if only she weren’t so afraid of losing it the moment she did. 

* * *

Come Thursday, Yaz was back at the club. 

Back to reality.

The place was ticking over, but there was still about half an hour before they were due for an influx of customers, so Yaz afforded herself a short break. Luckily for her, her favourite bartender and close friend was working that night, so she took her break sitting on the counter behind the bar and chatted to her while she worked. 

“What d’you think?” Bill was asking, lifting the hem of her tank top up to reveal a fresh tattoo of a bright yellow smiley face. Bill had a lot of tattoos; a full astrology sleeve on one arm consisting of stars and moons and even a little alien, a few more random ones on her chest and legs, and a small lightning bolt behind her ear. Yaz’s favourite was the silhouette of a woman at the back of her left shoulder; a tasteful outline of a naked woman with her side profile bared — as if she were looking past Bill towards something just out of reach. 

Bill said that whenever she had an emotion she didn’t agree with, she’d go and get a new tattoo until the buzz and sting of the needle made it go away. Yaz wasn’t sure how healthy that was, but she herself had never been the best with coping mechanisms, so she opted not to judge. 

“It’s cute,” said Yaz, reaching out to poke it only for Bill to jump back and yank her shirt down with a scowl.

“Oi! It’s still healing.”

“What’s it mean?”

“Uh, it’s a smiley face, Yaz. It means smile. Or, I dunno, be happy. Look, it was a cover up, all right? I didn’t really give it too much thought,” admitted Bill, plucking a pint glass from the rack and polishing it with a dishcloth. “Had to get it to cover up that bird’s name, didn’t I? Wouldn’t have even remembered it if it weren’t inked on my skin. God, remind me to never go to Magaluf again.”

“Mate, I’m surprised you aren’t riddled with STDs at this point,” laughed Yaz. Bill was the biggest womaniser she knew. Most nights, she ended up going home with a different girl from the club — usually a customer, but not always. She was sure around half the dancers had fallen into bed with her at least once. Yaz wasn’t among them. She loved Bill, and that’s exactly why she’d never sleep with her. It’d be like sleeping with her sister. Not that it ever stopped Bill’s shameless, albeit benign, flirting.

Bill scoffed. “Yeah, well — sorry we can’t all find mega loaded sugar mummies with fast fingers to keep us happy,” she said, taking someone’s order before turning back around to mix a drink. “How’s that going, anyway?”

“Yeah, it’s going pretty well,” offered Yaz with a nonchalant shrug. “Should’ve seen Cuba, Bill. The view from our villa were amazing.” 

“Ha. Right. Pretty sure I can imagine the view you spent most of your time looking at, mate,” she jibed, shaking the mixer over her shoulder with a smirk. “Does she taste as rich as her bank account? I bet rich girls taste like caviar, don’t they?”

“Ew. Bill.”

After serving the cocktail, Bill turned around and leaned against the counter with her arms crossed. “Caught feelings, yet?”

“It’s not like that,” insisted Yaz. “We’re not in a relationship.”

“No? Have you slept with anyone else?”

Yaz looked down at her feet. “I haven’t had time.”

Bill barked a laugh. “Haven’t had time?” She shook her head. “Yaz, look at yourself. You could bat your lashes at anybody you wanted and they’d fall at your feet in a heartbeat. Trust me, mate, it wouldn’t take any time at all.”

“Oh, you offering, are you?” joked Yaz.

“Hey, I’m all for helping my friends out,” Bill said, spreading her hands. “You know that.”

“Problem is, you have too many friends.”

Bill grinned roguishly. When a group came up to the bar after a round of Desperados, she asked Yaz to grab her some fresh limes from the fridge in the back when she realised she was out. 

“Something wrong with your legs?” asked Yaz, sliding off the counter. 

“Ah, you know I love to watch you walk away, Yaz!” she called as Yaz walked across the bar towards the back room. “That’s it — strut your stuff!”

Yaz gave Bill the finger without turning around, before disappearing from sight in the back. She was only gone for a minute, but when she returned, Bill was already flirting with somebody at the bar. Not just somebody — JJ. Yaz froze in the doorway. JJ didn’t make a habit of visiting Yaz at work and she hadn’t told her she’d be stopping by. At least, she didn’t think so. She hadn’t listened to the last three messages JJ left on her phone. 

Yaz could tell that JJ wasn’t sure how to react to Bill’s flirting; to the way she leaned over the counter with a subtle smile and what she called her ‘dreamy eyes’, which — to her credit — usually worked on most people. JJ wasn’t most people. 

Deciding she better step in and save her, Yaz set the limes down on the counter and walked over. JJ visibly brightened when she spotted her. 

“Bill—”

“One second, Yaz. Can’t you see I’m busy?” said Bill, turning around and shooting her a wink that JJ couldn’t see. 

With a laugh, Yaz held her hands up defensively, figuring she’d watch how this played out for naught but her own amusement. JJ looked between she and Bill with an uncertain expression on her face.

“Um, you’re a friend of Yaz’s?” 

“I’m a friend to many, babe,” Bill drawled, kicking Yaz’s shin behind the counter when she barely suppressed a snicker. “I’m Bill.”

“Oh, uh, nice to meet you, Bill.” JJ held her hand out and Yaz pressed her lips together to hide a smile. Bill quirked a brow. Rather than shake her hand, she lifted it to her lips and kissed her knuckles. JJ turned pink. “I’m — I’m JJ.”

“Wait, you’re JJ?” Just like that, Bill dropped JJ’s hand to the counter and turned to Yaz. “ _The_ JJ?”

“I tried to warn you, mate.”

Bill gave JJ a slow, scrutinous once over. “Never said she was so adorable, Yaz.”

JJ cleared her throat. “Um, Yaz, can I speak to you for a sec?”

“Why don’t you go and wait in the back for me, babe? I’ll bring you a drink,” said Yaz, already reaching for one of the tumblers underneath the bar. 

After an awkward half-wave goodbye to Bill, JJ shuffled off in the direction of the back room, keeping her eyes low in what Yaz presumed was an effort to avoid looking at the other dancers. Bill watched her go with a twinkle of delight in her eyes. 

“She is _too_ cute.” Bill nudged Yaz’s shoulder as she poured JJ a measure of her favourite Bourbon. “Not gonna keep her all to yourself, are you?”

“Give off it. You’re gonna scare her away, carrying on like that.” 

“Won’t be me that does that,” muttered Bill. “You’re gonna destroy that poor woman. You’re gonna leech her dry and break her heart.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure she’ll wipe her tears away with her stacks of money,” bit Yaz, already making her way around the counter. 

“You cold, cold woman!” shouted Bill, precursing another no doubt lewd remark Yaz fortunately couldn’t hear over the music and the din of the crowd as she made for the dressing room down the hallway. 

She found JJ, unsurprisingly, in yet another situation she was too awkward and polite to weasel out of. The other girls all ended up loving JJ as soon as they met her, and doted endlessly on her on the rare occasions in which she swung by. Tonight was no exception. Half naked and doused in glitter, they crowded around her chair and leaned over her and touched her hair and played with her suspenders. It was as if somebody had brought their puppy to work — which, supposed Yaz, JJ did kind of resemble. 

“All right, leave her alone,” sighed Yaz, swatting the girls away and taking a seat beside the vanity next to JJ to the tune of all the usual remarks, such as: “No fair, Yaz,” and “See you later, baby,” and “Come find me for a dance, JJ.” 

When they’d all returned to their respective mirrors and corners of the dressing room, Yaz handed JJ her drink. Whilst she took a sip, JJ used the moment to give Yaz a once over. She was in a caged, black and purple corset, which she was already regretting given how tight it was. She’d borrowed it from one of the less curvaceous girls, meaning it hugged all the right places at the cost of being able to breathe properly.

“Y’look nice,” complimented JJ sincerely. 

“What’s up, JJ? I’ve only got ten minutes left on my break.”

“Right. Um, I’ve been tryna reach you—”

“I’ve been busy. I can’t just be available for a booty call whenever you want me there,” said Yaz, ignoring the handful of boos the girls closest to her made at her brusque dismissal. In truth, she’d been deliberately keeping her distance from JJ since they got back. She wanted to let the high of their holiday wear off; make sure that when she saw JJ again they both had cooled off enough not to get any funny ideas about what they really were to one another. 

JJ frowned. “That’s — that’s not why I’ve been calling.” She swilled her drink around in her glass and looked down at it. When she glanced back up, she looked a little nervous. “Actually, I’ve got some big news. My firm’s opening another branch, soon. In Paris. I’m gonna be spending a lot of time down there to oversee things in the coming weeks.”

“Oh.” Perhaps Yaz still hadn’t been granted enough time to cool off, because the way her stomach dropped felt a little too much like disappointment for her liking. 

Following Yaz’s train of thought, JJ’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “No, I’m not — I mean, I’m not here to say goodbye. I was actually wondering if maybe you’d want to—”

“If she doesn’t, I will!” called one of the dancers. 

“Piss off!”

Realising that this wasn’t the kind of conversation she wanted an audience for, Yaz grabbed JJ’s hand and pulled her out of her seat. She led her down the hall towards one of the empty offices and closed the door to prying ears. 

“You were saying?” asked Yaz.

JJ perched on the edge of the desk. “So, yeah — Paris. Me and you. I were thinkin’ you could spend a bit of time down there,” she shrugged self-consciously. “You don’t have to stay the whole time; I know you have obligations here. It’d just — I just thought it’d be nice to have you with me. You’ve never been to Paris, have you?”

Face set with deliberation, Yaz leaned against the desk beside JJ. “You’d be working most of the time, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, true. But I promise you wouldn’t be bored,” guaranteed JJ. “There’s loads to do down there. You can even bring a mate, if y’like. I mean, Jack’s gonna be there, too. Could be fun.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Despite Yaz’s supposed indifference, JJ smiled widely at her. “Brilliant. Lemme know, anyway, ‘cause nothing’s gonna be happening for a couple of weeks.”

Peeling herself off the desk, Yaz put her hands on JJ’s hips and stepped between her legs. “You rushing off somewhere, now?”

“Um, well, it’s late. I were just on my way home.”

“Stay.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think, babe? So, we can leave together.” She pressed her painted lips to JJ’s and JJ hummed her approval, but the moment she parted her lips to deepen it, Yaz pulled back. JJ whined and Yaz thumbed a smudge of lipstick from the corner of her mouth with a smile. “Don’t worry; I’m sure Bill’d love to keep you company.”

* * *

Yaz deposited JJ at the bar with strict instructions to Bill to make sure none of the other girls made her uncomfortable. Lord knows JJ wouldn’t have had the heart to bluntly reject their advances, and bluntness was the only way to get through to them sometimes.

With a slot on the main stage, JJ was afforded a perfect view of Yaz from her stool. To begin with, she couldn’t take her eyes off Yaz. Yaz could feel her weighty stare even when she wasn’t looking back at her. Maybe she’d been playing it too coy, because after a while, she glanced over and found that she and Bill were engaged in conversation. If the sound of their laughter — which carried all the way across the club — was any indicator, they were getting along exceptionally. 

It’s not that Yaz was jealous, of course not, but she’d been putting on a first-rate show for JJ, and now she was hardly even paying attention. What could Bill be saying that was _so_ engaging? Their personalities weren’t exactly compatible. 

So, Yaz found a way to get her own back.

Once she was finished on stage, she found the prettiest girl she could and tempted her into a private dance. She was an obvious straight girl who’d been taking selfies all night just to prove that she’d been to a strip club and, oh, how scandalous. It made her an easy target when all her friends cheered her on. 

She took her by the hand and led her straight past the bar. Both JJ and Bill fell silent as she walked by. Bill shook her head knowingly, whereas JJ had gone very still. She felt their eyes on her until she disappeared into the private suite.

Not even sixty second into the dance, the door burst open and JJ strode in like she owned the place. 

“JJ!” hissed Yaz.

“Go buy yourself a drink, yeah?” JJ said to the young woman, pressing an over-generous wad of notes into her hand and dragging her out of the seat and towards the door. “There you go. Sorry about the intrusion. Y’look lovely.” She ushered her out of the door and closed it behind her. 

Yaz scoffed her disbelief, but she made a miserable attempt at masking her smile. “You do realise you can’t pay off all my customers, right?”

“Watch me,” said JJ, in a tone Yaz couldn’t deny turned her on a bit. She crossed the suite towards Yaz and tucked another handful of notes into the cords at the back of her corset, copping a healthy feel in the process. “I think it’s my turn, don’t you?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Yaz muttered under her breath, and yet she backed JJ up towards the sofa all the same. After shoving her down, she nodded towards the wallet in her hand. “Better keep ‘em coming.”

“Don’t I always?” JJ spread her legs and patted her knee.

She hadn’t done this for JJ since the night they met. Contrary to how reluctant she’d been the first time around, JJ wasn’t shy about running her hands all over Yaz while she danced for her. Nor was she shy about doling out her cash. She pulled her lip between her teeth while she grinded on her, and Yaz bet it was killing her that she was wearing a corset rather than lingerie. Not so easy to give her a proper show.

When Yaz pushed her flush against the seat by her shoulders and leaned in close, JJ tried to kiss her. Yaz put a finger to her lips. 

“That’s not allowed.”

Pouting against Yaz’s finger, JJ instead slid her hands up Yaz’s sides and went for her breasts. Yaz grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the seat. 

“Neither is that.”

“Yaz…”

“Rules are rules, babe,” sang Yaz. 

JJ stared at the diving cut of her corset; fingers twitching helplessly. “Since when did you ever care about the rules?”

“Since I know it drives you insane,” Yaz whispered millimetres from her mouth, rutting sadistically against her and careful to maintain her composure, that JJ wouldn’t see it was affecting her to see JJ lust uselessly after her just as much as it affected JJ to see Yaz like that and not be able to touch her. She was dripping in sex and JJ was standing under a shelter.

“God, you’re such a tease, Yasmin.” Licking her lips, JJ pulled out another note when Yaz released her wrists and tucked it between her breasts. Amenable as ever, she didn’t even let her fingers graze Yaz’s skin. “Just one kiss?” 

“Nope.”

Again, she folded two more notes into the corset.

“A peck?”

“No.”

More money. 

“On the cheek?”

Simpering, Yaz locked her hands together behind JJ’s neck and grinded so closely against her that her breasts came close to brushing up against her face. She felt JJ tense beneath her, clearly hoping for Yaz to extinguish the distance between them. Instead, she lowered her lips to her cheek as if to kiss her — and then murmured, “Not a chance, babe.”

JJ groaned, thudding her head back in defeat. “I can’t wait to get you out of here.”

Yaz’s smirk faded when she remembered exactly why it was that she was torturing her so mercilessly. “Noticed you and Bill getting along well,” she mused casually. 

“Yeah, I guess,” JJ said distractedly, eyes and thoughts elsewhere. “She’s nice.” 

JJ couldn’t see Yaz’s respondent frown; their cheeks were pressed flush and Yaz was facing the wall. “Oh, she’s nice? I bet she’d fuck you, you know?” She carded her fingers through JJ’s hair with a little more force than necessary. “If you asked.”

“Um, I don’t — why would I do that?” asked JJ, pulling her head back to meet Yaz’s eyes. 

“She’s pretty,” said Yaz.

“She is. She’s also not you,” JJ countered meekly. She drummed a finger against Yaz’s thigh; a nervous tick of hers. “So, are you sleeping with other people?”

Yaz shrugged. “Maybe.”

JJ nodded, crestfallen eyes turned down and betraying the truth of her feelings when she muttered a half baked, “That’s good.” 

And there she was again: a kicked puppy starving for scraps. It would take an extraordinarily heartless person to not want to pick a puppy up when she was down. Yaz wasn’t heartless; she just prioritised her own feelings first and foremost. It didn’t mean she never regarded anybody else’s. Yaz sighed. “I haven’t,” she confessed, and JJ’s eyes snapped up. “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t. Or that I won’t.”

But JJ seemed to not even hear the latter part. She beamed at Yaz like she’d just put the stars in her sky and, without even realising she was doing it, Yaz slowed her dancing to a stop. They stared at one another. Yaz’s backbone broke under the weight of JJ’s eyes — those _fucking_ eyes — and she admitted defeat in her losing battle against JJ’s accidental charm.

Yaz kissed JJ.

JJ was smiling far too hard to reciprocate.

* * *

“Christ — you really don’t do anything by halves, do you?” panted Yaz, pushing JJ off her and prompting her to climb out from under the covers and grin with lips smeared in Yaz’s arousal. 

JJ gave Yaz a kiss on the cheek and lay down beside her. “I’ve been all around the world, Yasmin,” she said, tracing patterns on Yaz’s abdomen with her fingertip — writing letters and confessions Yaz couldn’t decipher, “and between your thighs is my favourite destination by far.”

“Oh, god, do me a favour, babe,” beseeched Yaz half-heartedly, chest still heaving. 

“Cheesy?”

“Very.”

“Sorry.” Following a comfortable moment of silence, during which JJ did nothing but touch Yaz without motive and Yaz did nothing but let her, JJ squirmed in a way that Yaz knew to mean she had something on her mind. “Um, y’know back at the club? That thing you said about Bill?”

Yaz turned her head. “Yeah?”

“Were you… were you jealous?” she asked, hesitant embers of hope alighting her eyes.

They were embers that Yaz was fast to stub out. “I wasn’t jealous. She probably would fuck you if you let her. And I wouldn’t stop you, JJ. I’m not your girlfriend.”

JJ pulled her hand back and tucked it beneath her cheek, face falling. “It’s okay if you were a little bit jealous,” she said quietly. “I get jealous all the time. It’s why I hardly ever come to the club. I hate the idea of all those people looking at you and touching you and treating you like…” she cut herself off before she could get too worked up about it. 

“Well, maybe you should start seeing other people,” suggested Yaz, ignoring the thing that happened in her chest when the words left her mouth. 

“What if I don’t want to?”

Yaz shrugged. “That’s entirely up to you. Just don’t expect me to do the same.” She turned on her side to face JJ. “Room to play. That’s what you said the first night we met — that all I needed was room to play. Gotta give it to you, babe, you’ve given me that and more. But if you’re expecting me to—”

“I don’t expect anything of you, Yasmin. Ever,” insisted JJ. “Really, I wouldn’t ask you to make any decisions that’d make you unhappy.”

“Good. That’s that, then.” 

JJ swallowed. “That’s that.”

Yaz gave JJ a peck on the lips and then sat up as if to leave. 

“Wait,” said JJ, reaching for Yaz only to think better of it at the last second and let her hand fall onto the sheets. “Um. Five minutes?”

“JJ,” cautioned Yaz. When they weren’t on holiday, she never stayed in JJ’s bed. Hotels and villas and rental apartments were all well and good, because they were liminal spaces in which the rules of the real world didn’t apply. Staying at JJ’s home was a different story. It felt several leagues more personal, and was — Yaz believed — the first stepping stone towards having a drawer and a toothbrush and her own half of the wardrobe at JJ’s. 

“Five minutes never hurt anyone,” JJ reasoned. 

After a long handful of seconds, Yaz rolled her eyes and settled back down. JJ had a point, after all. Five minutes was just five minutes, and her limbs could probably do with a moment more to recover. Smiling gratefully, JJ put her arm around Yaz and stroked her hair softly while she lay with her head on JJ’s shoulder.

Five minutes became ten became twenty. Every time Yaz willed herself to just get up and go, her muscles didn’t even twitch. Soon, her eyes grew heavy and she was lulled gently into slumber by the security she found in JJ’s arms and the steady rise and fall of her chest beside her. Candidly, she didn’t fight her fatigue as vehemently as she could have — which she wouldn’t admit to come morning. Not even to herself.

When Yaz slept that night, she didn’t dream. 

It was rare that she ever dared to, unconscious or otherwise.

But when she woke up to sunlight climbing up the backs of distant high-rises and streaming in through the windows, encircled tightly in JJ’s embrace whilst she snoozed softly against her back, she dreamed — for a heartbeat — of a world in which the lowly stripper fell in love with the kindhearted, wealthy-beyond-her-means architect, and that story somehow had a happy ending. 


	3. teach me how to be sorry

“Easy with the leg, jackrabbit,” said Jack, reaching across the backseat to put a hand on JJ’s bouncing knee. “You’re giving me secondhand anxiety, here.” 

“Sorry,” mumbled JJ. “Just — I can’t wait to see her, that’s all.”

Relocating her anxious energy from her leg to her hands, JJ instead began to fiddle with the window button and roll it up and down. They were in a taxi on their way to Yaz’s to pick her up for the airport and, as usual before a trip away with her, JJ was a knotted tangle of nerves. Said nerves were exacerbated by the fact that this would be the first time, after their brief initial meeting, that Jack got to properly meet her. Jack’s opinion was important to JJ, and she wanted them to get along.

“You know, I’m glad you finally got laid — really, you’ve been a totally different person the past few months,” teased Jack, pulling one of the stress balls he forever had on hand for JJ out of his coat pocket and tossing it to her to keep her from breaking the window or tearing the upholstery apart, “but when I brought you to the club, I didn’t actually expect you to fall in love with one of the strippers.”

“I didn’t fa—” The tilt of Jack’s head and the pointed lift of his brow silenced the remainder of JJ’s denial. She frowned, clenching her fist around the stress ball. “Look, she’s not just a stripper. She’s a lot more than that. She’s special.”

“Yeah, I can imagine exactly how special she is,” quipped Jack. “I mean, not that I have imagined it. Ever,” he back-pedalled at JJ’s pointed glare. “All I’m saying is, doesn’t it all feel a little one sided to you? She gets a lot out of this deal, from what I can tell, and what do you get? A good lay and a broken heart?”

“I wish everybody would stop — it’s not a _deal._ It’s not a transaction,” argued JJ, tossing the ball rapidly between her hands. “We’re… well, I dunno what we are, but it’s not like that.”

“Honey, you’re her sugar mommy. You know that, right?” checked Jack, and though his voice was laced with amusement, there was a familial measure of concern behind his eyes. “‘Cause everybody else knows that. _She_ definitely knows that.”

JJ turned to the window and shrugged. “Well, what’s wrong with that?” she mumbled. “I thought you’d be all about it.”

“Oh, I love it! I think it’s brilliant — really,” laughed Jack. “But, it’s not gonna be so brilliant when it all falls apart if you’re a lot more invested in her than she ever was in you. You think if the company bottomed out tomorrow she’d stay by your side? Live in a cardboard box with you? I don’t think so, Jamie.”

“You don’t even know her,” said JJ, but suddenly her leg was bouncing again. She rolled the stress ball back and forth along her other thigh.

“You’re right, I don’t,” agreed Jack reasonably. “Good thing we’re all gonna be playing happy family in Paris for a couple weeks, huh? Boy, I can’t wait to see what naughty little secrets come to light out there. This is gonna be fun.”

Their arrival outside Yaz’s building didn’t come fast enough. JJ tossed the ball back to Jack and unbuckled her seatbelt. “Back in a mo’. I’ve texted you the next address — can you update the driver?”

“We’re not going straight to the airport?”

“She’s bringing a mate.” 

Jack broke into a well-pleased laugh. “Oh, that’s how it is? Jamie, I honestly didn’t think you had it in you. I’m so proud I might get a boner.”

“Christ,” cringed JJ, “that is definitely not how it is. D’you just live in the gutter?”

“Born and raised, baby. Just like you — don’t forget!”

JJ shook her head as she climbed out of the car and closed the door behind her. Yaz’s flat was situated in an unremarkable grey building, which JJ tried not to notice was rundown and more than a little dingy. She hadn’t been to Yaz’s flat before. Whenever they’d gone away in the past, she’d always insisted on meeting at the airport, but a last minute schedule change meant they’d need to leave earlier than planned, so it was easier for JJ to pick everyone up on her way. 

Checking the address for a fifth time in her messages, JJ walked past the out-of-order lift and hopped the stairs two at a time towards the third floor. After knocking on the door to flat 13D, JJ rocked forward on the toes of her boots and smoothed down her shirt; a navy blue button-up Yaz had picked out for her with a rainbow stripe across the breast. 

She heard the turn of a lock and then the door opened a crack, hindered by the chain pulled taut in the opening. JJ’s grin fell from her face when she saw the frown on Yaz’s. 

“I told you to wait in the car,” she said without bothering with a greeting. 

Not a great start.

“A gentleman never waits in the car. It’s impolite.”

Following an exasperated sigh, Yaz slammed the door shut. JJ glanced down the hallway uncertainly. Did Yaz expect her to leave? Before she could think to knock again for clarification, the chain slid back and Yaz swung the door open. She stepped aside to make room for JJ. 

“Better come in, then,” she said, nodding her head into her flat to encourage JJ to step past the threshold. “Just grabbing a couple last minute things. Won’t be long.”

“No rush. The plane won’t take off without us, eh?”

Yaz disappeared into the bathroom and JJ took the time to look around her flat — a small studio whose kitchen appliances, JJ thought, were far too close to the bed space for comfort. Still, Yaz had very much made the place her own. A couple of large canvas drop cloths hung from the walls, hand painted with sunsets and dusky mountain ranges. 

Candles littered almost every surface, some half melted and some untouched, and fairy lights had been pinned up on top of the cabinets and around the artwork. Her bed was unmade; the wrinkled, royal purple sheets a stark contrast to the white walls. 

A haphazard tower of books had been stacked at the side of the bed, most with bookmarks or scraps of paper or receipts sticking out from between the pages. JJ noticed that one of the hinges on her wardrobe door was broken; as such, it hung open, revealing a glimpse of an overcrammed storage space full of shoeboxes and dresses and the more provocative outfits she typically sported either at the club or in the bedroom. 

JJ gravitated towards a framed picture on the nightstand; half hidden from view by a potted cactus. She picked it up and studied the photograph. It depicted Yaz as she’d never before seen her — surrounded by family. 

Two people JJ presumed to be Yaz’s parents flanked Yaz, who was sitting in front of a cake with sixteen lit candles on top. Her mum had her hand on her shoulder, and her dad was pointing at something off-frame with a laugh. A girl a couple of years Yaz’s junior with a party hat on her head was sticking her tongue out at the camera in the background. Yaz herself was smiling. JJ touched a finger to her smile; to the brilliant, unashamed toothiness of her grin. She didn’t see that kind of smile anywhere near enough. 

The photo stirred something up out the dust within the further reaches of JJ’s chest. Here, she held love in her hands — it bled from the gloss and stained her fingers. It was tangible. And it made her ache. Not only because she’d never before seen Yaz like that, but also because it was precisely the kind of scene she used to dream of at around that age.

She wondered if the sixteen year old girl she was looking at realised how lucky she was. She wondered if the twenty-three year old woman she’d become realised it, too. Pulling her from her reverie, Yaz emerged from the bathroom and — upon noticing what JJ was looking at — yanked the photo from her hands. She tossed it into a drawer, refusing to meet JJ’s eye or catch her apologetic smile as she carried her toiletry bag to the open suitcase on the bed.

“Uh, I like your flat,” tried JJ, hoping to ease some of the weird tension that had settled heavy on their shoulders. “It’s very—”

“Small?” Yaz finished for her, struggling to get the zipper closed around the clothes, shoes, and toiletries bulging out of her case. JJ made a mental note to buy her a bigger case. And maybe a new wardrobe, while she was at it.

“I were gonna say cosy.”

“That’s one word for it.”

JJ sat down on the edge of the bed and eyed the room. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I sort of assumed, with how much y’make at the club, that you’d be able to afford somethin’ a little… roomier?”

“The club gets a cut of my earnings every night, it doesn’t all just go straight into my pocket,” explained Yaz, finally managing to force the zipper closed all the way. She straightened up and glanced at JJ, who offered a warm smile in the hopes that she wouldn’t think JJ was judging her in any way. Yaz hesitated. JJ couldn’t be sure, but she thought Yaz looked a little self-conscious all of a sudden. “Plus, I send a lot of what I make to my family.”

“Your family?” 

Yaz never talked about her family or her personal life — which JJ supposed was fair enough, since she never talked about hers, either. She understood the desire to keep some things private and she never pushed Yaz on the matter. That didn’t mean she wasn’t curious.

“They hit a rough patch a while ago,” said Yaz, rounding the bed to drop down beside JJ. “It’s — it’s kinda why I started dancing. My mum got laid off by her boss on the first day of a job that was supposed to turn things around. Make things better. They struggled after that, and I didn’t wanna just sit back and do nothing. So, I didn’t.”

“I never knew that.”

“That’s because I never told you.”

“Right. Well, thanks for tellin’ me, now,” smiled JJ. She rested her hand on Yaz’s thigh. “Does your family know where the money comes from? I mean, what do they think of all this?”

Yaz stiffened. “That’s not really got anythin’ to do with you, has it?” She brushed JJ’s hand away and got up, rummaging around in her wardrobe with her back to JJ.

One step forward and two steps back.

“Um, have I offended you?” JJ asked. It was a question she found herself asking a lot — not because she went out of her way to be rude, but because sometimes she crossed boundaries she didn’t realise existed or phrased things in a manner she was told could be insensitive or blunt. Social etiquette had never come easy for JJ. Some parts of it, at least. 

Yaz pulled her leather jacket off its hanger and JJ sprang to her feet to help her into it. She gave JJ a grateful nod, straightening out her collar in the mirror, and JJ lingered behind her expectantly until Yaz eventually met her eyes in the reflection. She pursed her lips. 

“You haven’t offended me, babe,” Yaz assured her, turning around so that they were standing face to face. Yaz looked at JJ’s shirt rather than her face. “They know what I do for a living; they just kind of elect not to address it. It’s easier for everyone involved if they just take my money without thinking about where it’s been or what I had to do to get it. They’ve got my sister and my Nani to think of, so they can’t exactly afford _not_ to take it.”

JJ nodded, never allowing the encouraging smile to slip from her face. This was more than Yaz had ever opened up to her, and she had a feeling she was only doing so because JJ had caught her unawares at home and she hadn’t had time to slip her mask on on her way out the door. She wondered if it would be unwise to tell her she looked so beautiful without her disguise.

“I think it’s really decent, what you’re doin’, Yaz,” reckoned JJ, taking Yaz’s hands in her own and running her thumb across one of her rings. 

“Yeah, well…” Yaz shrugged. “They’re family.”

“Are you close to them?”

“Used to be. There’s just been a lot of tension, lately,” admitted Yaz, her voice tight and her eyes fixed on their interlocked hands. “I’m not exactly on the path they hoped for. No one wants their kid to become a stripper, do they?”

“But, you’re doin’ it for them? Surely, they must—”

“Can we just drop it, please?” snapped Yaz. “I don’t know why I even…” Before JJ’s eyes, Yaz realised her uncharacteristic vulnerability and hardened her face, disentangling their fingers and brushing past JJ to get her suitcase. “Next time I tell you to wait in the car, just wait in the bloody car, all right?”

JJ’s heart sank. It was nice knowing the real Yasmin Khan while it lasted. “Sorry, Yasmin.” She watched Yaz go for another bag and held her hand out in a silent offer to carry it. 

Yaz stopped short, regarding JJ’s outstretched hand like it was a beggar on the street who she pitied but felt helpless to assist. Levelling her gaze with JJ’s, Yaz’s squared shoulders slackened some and she handed her bag over. 

“Sorry for snapping at you, JJ,” she muttered. “C’mere.” 

She wrapped her free hand around JJ’s neck and pulled her in for a brief kiss. Though JJ definitely still mourned the loss of opportunity to keep getting to know Yaz on a deeper level, she couldn’t help but let the firm press of her lips wash all her worries away like a high tide carrying litter and debris and broken bits of shell out to sea. They’d wash up on shore again, eventually — but that was a problem for then. 

“No need to apologise, Yaz,” said JJ, giving her a light peck between the brows before they pulled away. “Family’s complicated, eh?”

“Yeah,” agreed Yaz, affording JJ the mercy of a small smile. “Family’s complicated.” 

* * *

“Mate, this place is fucking unreal!” exclaimed Bill, jaw hanging open as the group of four stepped up into the jet. Taking none by surprise, she was instantly drawn to one appliance in particular. “Check it out, they’ve got a fully stocked mini fridge over here! Anyone for a bev?”

“Honey, it’s not even noon,” Jack pointed out, folding his sunglasses over the collar of his shirt and dropping onto one of the armchairs. 

“So?”

“So—” Jack cocked a brow and held his palms up as if the end to his sentence was obvious— “hand me a vodka, will you?”

Bill grinned. “I think me and the Yank are gonna get on well.” She crouched down to grab a couple of miniatures and looked over her shoulder at JJ and Yaz as they stored their cases overhead. “Anyone else?”

JJ refused a drink, not least because her guts were already churning with pre-flight jitters and she didn’t want to give her stomach any ammunition should it be a rocky flight. She disappeared inside the restroom before takeoff to wash her face with cool water and was still pressing the towelette to her face when she heard a gentle knock on the open door. She looked up to find Yaz hovering in the doorway. 

“Nervous?” Yaz asked.

JJ chuckled. “That obvious?”

Smiling, Yaz entered the bathroom and came up behind JJ. The leather of her jacket creaked when she wrapped her arms around JJ’s waist and JJ exhaled deeply, allowing the pressure of Yaz’s arms to ground her some. 

“While we’re taking off,” Yaz whispered, her every breath grazing the shell of JJ’s ear, “just close your eyes and think about our second night in Berlin. You remember?”

“When a pigeon stole my bratwurst and then dropped it on my head ‘cause it were too heavy to carry? Vividly,” recalled JJ, frowning at Yaz in the mirror. “Not sure how that’s supposed to help take my mind off things.”

Yaz slipped her hand into the back pocket of JJ’s trousers and JJ started, glancing furtively at the open door. “What we did after,” Yaz elaborated in a purr against her cheek, squeezing JJ from inside her pocket and prompting any heat she had just washed off to come flooding back to her face in spades. “When we got back to the hotel, babe. I _know_ you haven’t forgotten that.”

“Oh.”

That, she certainly hadn’t. 

Yaz’s clarification triggered a series of lightning-quick evocations, as visceral as they were depraved: a flash of rope, the crack of leather, teeth bared and skin marred and pain and pleasure and not sleeping until sunrise. It had definitely been one of their more intense nights together — no wonder Yaz was calling on that particular memory to tide her over.

“Just think about that. Every detail of it,” said Yaz, touching her lips to JJ’s neck. “Or think about our weekend in Tokyo, or that thing we tried in Amsterdam — or just think about all the things I’m gonna do to you in Paris.”

JJ darted her tongue across her suddenly dry lips. “What are you gonna do to me in Paris?”

“Guess you’ll find out, babe,” taunted Yaz. “Let your imagination run wild, yeah?”

Jack’s voice calling to them from across the jet jolted JJ, and Yaz slid her hand out of her back pocket instinctively. “You guys aren’t hooking up already, are you?” he shouted. “Jesus, Jamie, the wheels aren’t even off the ground, yet!”

Yaz sent JJ a quizzical look. “Jamie?”

“What? You didn’t think JJ was the name on my birth certificate, did you?” queried JJ. She shrugged against Yaz. “I don’t really use it, and I tend not to give it unless anyone asks.” _Which you haven’t,_ she thought. _Four months and you never even asked my name._

Whether Yaz felt at all guilty about that, JJ struggled to tell. They regarded one another in their reflection for a beat, until Yaz pressed a chaste kiss to JJ’s cheek and pulled back. “I think it’s cute,” she said — and turned promptly away. 

After making their way to their seats and waiting for both Bill and Jack to have a crack at flirting with the pilot (Bill got her number; Jack got a cordial handshake and then a faux-consolatory pat on the back from Bill), they took off. Taking off was always one of the worst parts, for JJ. Everything was wobbly and unsteady; she felt pinned to her seat; her ears popped; her fingernails dug into the creamy leather of her armchair, and JJ was terrified. 

She whispered, “One in eleven million,” to herself over and over, but it wasn’t doing very much to pacify her. All she wanted was to hold Yaz’s hand, but the seatbelt sign was on and they were just out of reach from one another.

“You okay, babe?” asked Yaz from the armchair directly opposite JJ’s.

JJ didn’t — couldn’t — answer. She just kept muttering her statistic like it was a lifeline; like the words hadn’t lost their meaning the second they were far enough from the ground for the people to become ants and for the world to unfurl below them like a map. 

“JJ?” called Jack. He was sitting behind her, trying to peer around the back of her chair to get a look at her.

Bill’s eyes darted between Bill and Yaz. “Uh, is she broken?”

“She’s not broken,” Yaz asserted with a harsh edge bordering on protectiveness. JJ might have reacted more to this, had she not been so thoroughly gripped by fear at present. She felt Yaz nudge the toe of her boot with her shoe. “Remember what I said, JJ. Yeah? Berlin.”

_Berlin._

JJ ground her jaw and cast her mind back to that night. Like a play by play, she ran through every single detail in chronological order. Every single detail of Yaz’s body: her contours, her skin; her hands and her limbs and her dark, dark eyes. She thought about the marks and bruises Yaz left behind on her skin like careless paint splatters, which JJ had studied the following day until she’d committed each of them to memory. 

She remembered sticky kisses and the scrape of teeth, she remembered friction burns on her wrists and fingernails digging into her back and she remembered Yaz’s balming tongue running over each of her hurts and how her saliva had felt like medicine, at the time. How it always felt like medicine — whether she knew she needed healing or not.

And afterwards, when it was all over, Yaz had lain down beside JJ and been so unusually careful with her. She’d needed it, of course, but she’d never expected that from Yaz; hadn’t expected her to check so thoroughly that JJ was okay and that she was comfortable and that she had enjoyed herself. It was one of the only times, to date, that Yaz had spooned JJ while she slept. 

JJ thought this might have been why Yaz chose this exact memory for her — because perhaps Yaz knew how much JJ cherished it. Perhaps she knew how often JJ turned the memory over in her mind and how much she craved Yaz’s arms around her at all times and how when her bed was empty, only insomnia came to lie down beside her and insomnia looked a lot like Yaz’s ghost and sounded like the first letter of a four letter word JJ was still struggling to pronounce. 

By the time JJ opened her eyes again, her heart was slowing and her fingers had loosened their grip on the arms of her chair considerably. Her fingernails left imprints deep in the leather when she peeled them off, but the worst was through. The jet was soaring through the air, now — sailing smooth and steady. All eyes were on JJ. 

JJ’s eyes were on Yaz. 

Only Yaz.

Jack sat back with a relieved sigh and gave Yaz a strange look. “You’re gonna have to clue me in on those magic words you used, for future reference,” he said. “I love you, Jamie, but you’re the worst person in the world to fly with.” 

Yaz didn’t peel her eyes away from JJ; something like genuine worry still etched plain on her face. “Not sure it’d quite have the same effect coming from you, mate.”

Jack sniggered. “Gotcha.” He leaned forwards and gave JJ’s shoulder a squeeze. “Must’ve been one hell of a hump, huh?”

JJ cringed. “Please, don’t say that word.”

“What, hump?”

“How about bone?” Bill chimed in, eyes saturated with mischief.

“Or mate?” 

“Fornicate?”

“Copulate?”

“Know what, I think I will have that drink,” grumbled Yaz, unfastening her seatbelt now that the sign had been turned off and making for the mini fridge. 

“Good idea,” JJ seconded. 

Bill turned to Jack. “How long ‘til we manage to get ‘em blackout wasted, d’you reckon?”

Jack squinted at Yaz and JJ, scratching his stubble. “I give it a week.”

“I think they’ll be lucky to last the next few days, to be honest.”

“Wanna make that interesting?”

“Oh, always, mate.”

“You know we can hear you, right?” asked Yaz. She carried two drinks back from the fridge and handed one to JJ, before motioning for her to scoot up and then nestling into the space beside her. Ignoring Yaz completely, Jack and Bill continued to place a bet on how long it would take for them to get JJ and Yaz smashed beyond sense. Yaz rolled her eyes and then landed them on JJ. “Feeling better, babe?”

“Much.” JJ smiled her gratitude and put her arm around Yaz’s shoulders. “Have to keep that trick in mind. How’d you know it’d work?”

“Just a hunch,” shrugged Yaz. She took a sip of her gin and then ran her thumb absently along the lip of the glass. “Always used to help me to fixate on memories of better times, whenever I got in a bad state. And I know what your mind’s like, babe. How obsessed with details you are. Your memories are probably like little movies, aren’t they?”

JJ smiled indulgently, but precisely because Yaz was right — and she did obsess over small details — she didn’t fail to notice Yaz’s second slip of the mask that day. With Jack and Bill sitting mere feet away, she opted not to probe; not to ask what Yaz meant when she talked about bad states; not to wonder what her better times consisted of and who was present and was JJ in any of them, now? When she got low, did she ever think of JJ? Did it ever help? Did Yaz ever catch herself smiling at something JJ had said or done days after it had happened when they weren’t even together? All of that was true for her. 

Alas, she locked her many questions away in a secure vault at the back of her mind and noted the combination down somewhere safe. One day, she vowed to pluck up the gall to crack it back open and ask them all out loud — assuming, on that day, she wasn’t still so afraid of hearing the answers.

“Thanks, Yaz,” is all she was able to say right now. It wasn’t anywhere near enough. 

Yaz squeezed JJ’s thigh. “Well, if we were alone, I could’ve distracted you in a much better way,” she rued under her breath, sparing a glance around the side of their seat and eyeing Bill and Jack. When she settled back down, she was smirking. That face she was wearing usually indicated that her mind had just been corrupted by a most wicked idea. “How about we have a bit of fun of our own, JJ?”

JJ returned her smirk. “What’d you have in mind?”

“If Bill mentions more of her conquests than Jack by the time we get to the apartment, then you owe me an orgasm,” proposed Yaz, drawing slow circles on JJ’s knee over her trousers and speaking low into her ear. “If Jack beats her, then I owe you one.”

“Oh, Yasmin,” uttered JJ — face a picture of glee. “You’ve just signed your fate.”

“You don’t know Bill.”

“You don’t know Jack.” JJ turned in her chair and leaned over the side. “Jack, why don’t you tell Bill about that weddin’ you crashed?”

“Which one?”

JJ grinned. “Any.”

Yaz gave JJ a light smack on the arm when she turned back around to the tune of Jack launching into a no doubt wildly embellished story of sex and scandal and a fumble on a horse-drawn carriage. “That’s cheating. Doesn’t count.”

“Can’t wait for this mind blowin’ orgasm you’re gonna give me,” simpered JJ. “Do I get to make requests?”

“Don’t get cocky, babe. It’s not a good look on you,” said Yaz, picking a piece of fluff from JJ’s shoulder and letting her hand rest there. When she looked back up, she had the devil in her eyes. Her lips quirked upwards. “You can’t make any requests — but you can definitely beg.” 

JJ stared hungrily at Yaz’s mouth. “Next time, we’re gettin’ our own jet.” 

“Don’t you only have the one?”

“Doesn’t matter,” dismissed JJ, wetting her own lips as she leaned in to taste Yaz’s. “I’ll buy another.”

* * *

Jack’s initial anecdote — though Yaz was adamant that it didn’t count towards the final tally — launched a whole back and forth conversation between he and Bill; a series of increasingly absurd stories that those who weren’t better acquainted with them might have assumed were equal parts fact and fiction. Attentive as always, JJ closely monitored the score in her head.

Bill regaled them all with her account of the time she slept with two different women from her foster mum’s book club, Jack came back with a tale of the time he ‘accidentally’ ended up at a swingers’ festival, Bill talked about dancers and acrobats, Jack recalled an Olympic athlete (a gold medalist — “if anyone was wondering”), and so on and so forth. They continued their efforts to one-up one another throughout the whole flight, for the duration of their car ride to the apartment in central Paris, right up until they walked in through the front door. 

Their apartment took up the entire top floor of the building. Sunlight spilled onto the hardwood floors through long, arched windows which boasted an all-encompassing view of the city. An extravagant chandelier hung above the lounge; above grey sectional sofas, a mahogany coffee table, and a designer rug JJ worried for the safety of in the presence of Bill and Jack. 

There was an impressively decked-out study down the hall from the kitchen — which was also impressive; all sleek black cabinets and a white stone island. Tall ceilings and white walls made the place feel generously spacious, which had been the goal when JJ picked it out. The four of them would be sharing quarters for almost two weeks, after all, and she didn’t yet know how well their personalities would merge. 

Each bedroom also had its own balcony and ensuite. The moment they arrived, everybody disappeared to their own corners of the apartment to nap, shower, and change for their evening meal later. JJ and Jack weren’t due to begin work until the following day, which JJ thanked her lucky stars for as she and Yaz entered their bedroom. 

Theirs was an open frame bed with cream sheets to match the shag carpet. The windows and sliding door to the balcony took up almost a whole wall. JJ stepped out and beamed. Yaz had wanted a view of the Eiffel tower — and she had provided. 

Several blocks north, it towered proud over the city, backdropped by plumes of white cloud and a sapphire sky. Rich, buttery smells wafted up from the bakery next to their building and the din of urban life — cars crawling along on the roads below and bellowing laughter and car horns and raised voices — carried towards them on the mild breeze. 

“God, these sheets feel like heaven,” said Yaz from inside. 

JJ turned to find her lying on her back on top of the duvet, shoes kicked off and hands locked together behind her head. Forgetting to care about the view outside, JJ instead relished in the one sprawled out on their bed. She yanked off her boots and jumped onto the empty space beside her, propping her cheek up with her palm and popping what she hoped was a suggestive eyebrow. 

Yaz eyed her knowingly and rolled onto her side. “Did you manage to keep count? I kinda lost track, after—”

“Bill, eight. Jack, eleven,” JJ interrupted gladly. She’d never been so overjoyed to have such a licentious best friend. “That is, if we’re only counting the individual stories rather than the body count. The body counts are much higher, but Jack still comes out on top.”

“Eleven?” Yaz scoffed. “Come on.”

“I can recount ‘em for you, if y’like,” drawled JJ, cupping Yaz’s cheek and leaning over her for a kiss. 

Yaz didn’t bother arguing. She bunched JJ’s shirt in her fist while they kissed and pulled her down until JJ was lying between her hips. Tongues brushed together in a clash of gin and scotch; a lethal cocktail if ever there was one. The tips of JJ’s fingers had just about slipped beneath the hem of Yaz’s top when, without warning, Yaz flipped JJ onto her back and pinned her wrists down. 

“You’re gonna have to really want this, babe,” she hummed, putting all her weight into the knee pressed between JJ’s thighs.

“You know I do,” huffed JJ. She wriggled beneath Yaz’s body but restrained herself from keening into her leg. Yaz didn’t like it when JJ sought out that which she hadn’t been offered.

Leaning down low enough for JJ to get a good look beneath the low cut of her top, Yaz’s hair curtained both their faces and made their every exchange feel like a secret hidden from view of the rest of the world. “I don’t know it ‘til I hear you say it.” She nestled her knee in deeper against JJ’s crotch and JJ gritted her teeth.

“I want you, Yasmin. So bad,” breathed JJ. “I’ve been thinkin’ about this nonstop since we took off.”

“What’ve you been thinking about?”

“I thought about — I thought about your mouth.” JJ stared openly at the very object of her obsession as she spoke. “Your lips, your tongue… your teeth.”

“My teeth?” Yaz dragged the tip of her tongue along the sill of her upper teeth and JJ watched; transfixed. Flashing a warped grin her way, Yaz dropped her head to JJ’s throat and bit down on the flesh over her carotid artery. JJ groaned — pinched eyebrows exposing her enjoyment of the particular brand of pain Yaz had perfected to a delectable art. “Carry on.”

Reigning in her thoughts was a challenge with Yaz’s teeth and tongue at her throat, but she presumed that was the point. “I, uh — I thought about how hot you are when you take charge. When you tell me what to do. When you’re in control.”

“So, always?” Yaz smirked against her neck. 

“Always.” JJ bit her lip when Yaz flicked her tongue over the indents her teeth had made. “You’re always so fucking gorgeous, Yasmin. Everythin’ you do just gets me so worked up. And you know it. And that makes it worse. Or — better. I dunno. It just drives me crazy. I can’t concentrate on anythin’ else when you’re in the room.”

Yaz released JJ’s wrists in favour of unbuckling her belt, moving her mouth to the opposite side of her neck as she did so. “Keep going, JJ. Tell me how much you love it when I turn you into a needy wreck.”

“God, I love it so much. I love beggin’ you for it, Yaz,” said JJ, watching her belt come loose beneath Yaz’s quick fingers — which then dragged her zipper down millimetre by metre. She thudded her head back against the pillow. “I love it when you tease and I love it when you hurt me and I love it when you tell me how good I am for taking it.”

“You are, JJ. You’re so good,” murmured Yaz. She shuffled back down JJ’s legs and JJ lifted her weight to make for easier removal of her trousers. Once they had been discarded, and JJ was left in her shirt and boxers, Yaz straddled one of JJ’s thighs and leered down at her. “How ready are you, JJ?”

JJ opened her mouth to speak but before she could give voice to the first syllable of a shameless plea, Yaz shook her head and held a finger to JJ’s lips. 

“Show, don’t tell.” Yaz glanced prepensively towards JJ’s boxers. “Touch yourself.”

JJ’s heart jumped at the command of Yaz’s voice. She wasn’t asking — and that was fine with JJ. More than fine. She’d never say no to Yaz, anyway. Yaz closely followed the movements of her hand as she slid it down her stomach and into her boxers; a black pair decorated with small rainbows to match her shirt. 

The cotton tented against her knuckles and when she ran her fingers along herself, the moisture they unearthed came as no surprise. Rather than watch herself, JJ watched Yaz for her reaction. Her stomach flipped when she saw Yaz lick her lips. 

Sensing that she was being observed, Yaz’s pupils cut towards JJ’s face and she tilted her head in impure regard. Hands buried into the sheets at either side of JJ, Yaz lowered herself until her mouth hovered directly over JJ’s ear. “Finger yourself for me,” she began, so quiet that JJ was forced to rely on the harsher impression of the consonants alone to decipher her instructions, “Jamie.” 

JJ’s hand went still inside her boxers. She turned her head to meet Yaz’s eye, only to find her smiling villainously — like someone who’d just learned state secrets or nuclear launch codes and had every intention of using them for her own malicious gain. 

“How many fingers?” asked JJ.

“How many can you take?”

“Um.” JJ looked down at herself — they both did — and tested the give of her walls. She stretched hospitably to accommodate her intruding fingers and sighed. “Two. Two fingers.”

“We can do better, can’t we? Keep going, babe.” Yaz shrugged off her jacket and lifted herself off JJ’s leg. She came to sit directly behind JJ and dragged her up until her legs were bracketed by Yaz’s and her back was pressed up against her chest. 

While JJ continued to plunge her fingers ever deeper inside herself, Yaz reached around her and unbuttoned her shirt. Once it was open and hanging from JJ’s frame, revealing ribs jutting prominently against her skin with every laboured breath and a handful of not-quite-faded marks over her collarbones and stomach, Yaz slipped her hand beneath the hem of her sports bra and kneaded a breast in her palm. 

JJ thudded her head back against Yaz’s shoulder with a moan. Using her free hand, Yaz cupped JJ’s chin and turned her head away to better expose her throat to her lips. She brushed them over tender, wanting skin and JJ curled her fingers inside herself each time she did, wondering if the heartbeat fluttering like a sail in the wind was her own or Yaz’s. 

“Please, Yaz…” she whispered.

Yaz didn’t lift her head from JJ’s shoulder, upon which she was planting open-mouthed kisses to soothe the skin she’d just aggravated between her teeth. “Please, what?” 

“You said — you said you were gonna make me come.”

Brow furrowed, Yaz looked up. “I’m making you wet, aren’t I? I’m _making_ you fuck yourself. What part of that isn’t me making you come, JJ?”

“But—”

“Are you arguing with me, now?” Yaz jerked a nipple between her fingers and JJ sucked in a sharp breath; fingers faltering in their effort. “Is this not enough for you?”

“Fuck — no, of course it is. You’re always enough,” backpedalled JJ, hoping to wheedle her way out of Yaz’s bad books and, with any luck, into her capable hands. “I just love the feel of you, Yasmin. Your fingers inside me.”

“Yeah?” Yaz tilted JJ’s face towards her. “Open your mouth, Jamie.” When JJ obliged, Yaz slid three fingers halfway inside her mouth and pressed them onto her tongue. “There. My fingers inside you. Now, keep going; I never said you could stop. And don’t even think about biting down, babe.”

Legs bent within the confines of Yaz’s thighs, JJ squeezed another finger inside herself and they both watched the motions through the fabric of her underwear. Whenever Yaz twisted a nipple, it took everything JJ had not to clench her teeth or even graze Yaz’s fingers. She swirled her tongue around them instead. That must have been right, because then Yaz was forcing them further back into her mouth; encouraging JJ to suck on them while she fucked herself. Again, Yaz roughly twerked a nipple, and again, JJ just about resisted the urge to clamp her jaw shut.

“Good girl,” cooed Yaz in a voice dripping with honey, relocating her fingers and massaging JJ’s other nipple. “Isn’t it so much better when you’re a good girl for me, JJ?”

JJ whimpered incoherently around Yaz’s hand until she pulled it out of her mouth, every digit shining with JJ’s saliva.

“What was that, babe?”

“I wanna come for you, Yaz,” JJ pleaded. “Please.”

“Not yet. I’m enjoying the show too much to let you come, right now.”

The moment JJ turned to look at her, Yaz smiled at her. It wasn’t smug or cruel, it was just a smile. _You’re doing well,_ it meant. _Keep going._ So, JJ did exactly that. JJ worked herself up to a quicker pace, and then moaned into Yaz’s mouth when she leaned down to kiss her. Yaz sucked JJ’s lower lip, nibbled on it, dragged it between her teeth. So beguiled by the black holes of Yaz’s eyes was she, JJ failed to notice that Yaz’s hand was moving until it covered her own over her boxers.

She didn’t do anything with it, at first — only let it rest over JJ’s to feel the movements of her fingers and the frantic jerk of her wrist. Sounds of a filthy nature shielded the room from a silence that would otherwise have been suffocating in the stifling proximity of their faces and bodies. 

Yaz resumed their kiss. 

This time, it was heavier and deeper and warmed JJ’s insides like a burning slug of alcohol. When JJ accelerated her motions further — fingers slipping in and out as if along a greased slide — Yaz elicited a quiet sigh at the obscene noises every consecutive plunge made; betraying her own arousal. JJ kissed her harder. She let Yaz’s body support her weight and reached a hand up to weave into her hair, that she might hold her as close to her face as possible.

JJ sorely wished Yaz were naked right then or, at the very least, had shedded more than just her jacket and shoes. But then, this was all part of the game. The imbalance of power. Moves and countermoves. JJ begged for Yaz’s fingers so she put them in her mouth; Yaz promised to make her come only to find a loophole. She had to give it to her, Yaz was a lot better at this game than JJ.

“God, listen to that,” implored Yaz, kissing her wetly around the words and squeezing JJ’s hand lightly over her boxers. “That all for me, JJ?”

By way of response, JJ hummed against Yaz’s tongue. Without breaking away from the kiss, she eyed Yaz’s hand and felt herself burn hotter at the sight of her pressing into JJ while she fucked herself. Yaz paused the kiss and pulled her hand away, only to run it along JJ’s forearm and follow the map of her veins until her fingers disappeared beneath the waistband. 

She slotted them tightly between JJ’s to stop her, pulled her hand out, and then guided it towards her clit. Yaz dragged JJ’s fingers gently over the throbbing crux of her desire a few times — lazily swiping backwards and forwards — and JJ sighed a soft curse. 

Yaz pressed her forehead to JJ’s temple. “Go ahead, babe,” she encouraged, letting go of JJ’s hand and withdrawing from her boxers.

Though she grieved the removal of Yaz’s hand, JJ was so wet and so worked up that, at this point, she’d welcome any and all pressure she was granted — even if she was forced to apply it herself. 

She rubbed tight circles against herself with two fingers pressed flat over the hot mass of sensitive nerves, all while Yaz planted wet kisses down her neck and palmed her breast. When she arrived at the curve of her shoulder, she sank her teeth in and JJ whimpered on cue. JJ worked her fingers faster and faster, mouth hanging open as she watched herself graft. She felt the pressure inside of her build and build until it loomed over her larger than the Eiffel tower winking at them in the distance. It trembled and swayed, threatening to collapse on top of her and bury her under the debris. 

“Yaz — Yaz, I’m close.”

Yaz sucked the lobe of JJ’s ear. “How close?”

“Close,” grunted JJ. “Really, really close.”

“Stop.”

“No — Yaz, please.”

“I said, stop.” Yaz yanked JJ’s hand out of her boxers and JJ made a noise like a wounded animal as Yaz proceeded to grab her other wrist and pin them both behind her back. She held them there with an iron grip. “Now, do what you do best, JJ. Beg.”

“God — please, lemme come for you, Yasmin. Please, just…” She wriggled against Yaz’s hold and only realised her fatal error when Yaz clamped down tighter around her wrists; fingernails digging painfully into her flesh. 

“You’re not being a very good girl, are you, Jamie?” she seethed into her ear. “Maybe I won’t let you, after all. Maybe I’ll just get up and walk away. Think you deserve that?”

JJ’s eyes widened. “No! Please, don’t do that. I’m so sorry, Yaz. I’m just — you just make me so desperate. All I ever wanna do is come undone for you. Please. It’s for you. It’s always for you. Let me come, Yasmin. I’m sorry.” She looked up at Yaz. Her face was built from stone and she hadn’t even made a dent. “I’m really, really sorry. I’ll — I’ll pay you back. I’ll do anythin’. Give you whatever you want. I’ll—”

“JJ, stop. What are you…” Yaz was frowning deeply at her, and JJ felt her hold on her arms loosen slightly. 

“What?” Panicked, JJ searched Yaz’s eyes. She couldn’t be sure if this was part of it or if Yaz was genuinely mad at her. She was on the cusp of asking when Yaz let go of her wrists. 

“Just keep your hands behind your back,” she muttered, reaching down and dipping her fingers beneath JJ’s boxers. JJ assumed, if Yaz still intended to let her come, that whatever Yaz had been frowning about mustn’t have been too important; that she’d just read things wrong. As always. At least, that’s how it felt when Yaz dabbed three fingers into her arousal and spread it all over her in several long strokes.

JJ all but purred, settling as comfortably against Yaz’s body as she could when her arms were in the way. No sooner had she done so than Yaz instigated her targeted attack with the practised precision of someone who knew JJ’s body inside and out, lavishing profuse attention directly to JJ’s clit and tilting her head back with a fist in her hair. 

Swearing at the sting, JJ buried her fingernails into her palm and drew her lip between her teeth. But when she glanced at Yaz — nothing. Her face was set; mouth a straight line and forehead still creased in an allusion to the frown that had since faded. JJ tried to ask if she was all right, but all that came out when she opened her mouth was Yaz’s name, over and over and over again, until even that became incoherent and JJ’s senses allowed for nothing but the feel of fast fingers between her thighs and an unforgiving grip in her hair and Yaz’s warm, steady breath against her face.

The scope of JJ’s pleasure expanded. Her chest rose and fell and rose and fell and her toes began to curl. She felt the swell of burgeoning pressure squeeze against her ribs, climb up her throat, dance behind her eyes.

“Let go, JJ,” Yaz spoke into her ear. “I wanna see you fall apart.”

To drive her point home, Yaz pressed her fingers harder against JJ; worked them in tighter, faster circles. Cheeks stuck together, the two of them did nothing but watch Yaz’s hand and the rapidly shifting range of her knuckles through the cotton while JJ moaned throatily and fought to keep her eyes open because — what a sight. 

And then, JJ did as she was told. 

She fell apart.

Coinciding a long, staggered groan, JJ arched into Yaz. Her hips canted and she thrusted herself deeper into Yaz’s touch, just about remembering to keep her hands behind her back through the haze of euphoria. Yaz kept going. She kept going until JJ’s hair stopped resisting the pull of her fingers and her moan gave way to short, gasping breaths and she went limp against her — no more flutters or jolts or spasms. 

The moment it was over, Yaz pulled her fingers away. JJ’s eyes were still closed and she was still making her way back to her body when Yaz peeled away from her, let her drop back onto the sheets, and climbed out of bed. 

JJ peeled one eye open. “Wh — where are you goin’?”

“Shower,” came Yaz’s curt reply. She crouched down beside her case and proceeded to rummage around for a change of clothes.

“Um,” JJ sat up and pulled her knees up to her chest. “Are you okay?”

Clothes in hand, Yaz straightened up at the foot of the bed and looked at JJ with an unreadable expression on her face. She laughed bitterly. Choosing not to credit JJ’s question with a response, she stalked into the bathroom without another word and slammed it in her wake. JJ flinched. She might not have been great with deciphering facial expressions, but she knew enough to to crack the code of a slammed door. Yaz was pissed. And it wasn’t a game. 

Bemused, JJ scrambled out of bed and approached the bathroom. She knocked on. “Yaz?” Just as she reached for the door handle, however, she heard the click of the lock. Two seconds later, the shower was running. JJ’s face fell and her hand dropped to her side. 

“Yaz?”

* * *

They dined out that evening on the terrace of a swanky, immodest restaurant encircled by a glass parapet and illuminated by flickering lanterns. Overhead, a salmon pink sky shrouded the city in romance and tinted the buildings furthest from them in hazy purples and blues. 

An ocean of golden lights glittered like sequins catching the sun, most notably — since they weren’t far from the Champ de Mars — those from the Eiffel tower itself and the spotlights dancing around it. 

Their table was situated right beside the parapet, and was separated from adjacent patrons by tall, potted plants positioned at intervals along the balcony. Typically, JJ enjoyed dining in France. The waitstaff weren’t much inclined to pester you while you ate, which she found more polite than British customs, and the minimalist wine list meant less time spent agonising over what best to pair with her meal. Red or white — it made life so much simpler. 

The knot of anxiety in her stomach prevented her from enjoying any of it, this time around. When the starters arrived, she gave hers to Jack. When the main course followed, she merely picked at it. Yaz was still being off with her; she had been since earlier that afternoon. 

Whenever JJ tried to catch her eye or get her alone, she stuck fast to Bill and refused to even give JJ a hint at what she’d done wrong. The only time, in fact, she even acknowledged JJ’s existence was when her leg began to bounce violently in the taxi on the way over. Yaz had rested her palm on her thigh without looking at her and JJ’s leg had stilled. Just like that. But any hopes she had about things being good between them were smothered into nonexistence the second they all climbed out of the car and Yaz continued to act as if JJ didn’t exist. 

While the group was debating dessert, Yaz excused herself to go to the bathroom. JJ chewed her lip, head turned towards Jack and Bill but eyes following Yaz. She desperately wanted to follow her, but she also knew that cornering someone in the bathroom was not a very gentlemanly thing to do. 

“All right, Rockefeller,” said Bill, ending JJ’s internal debate with a snap of her fingers, “what’s the story, then?”

“What?”

“You and Yaz. What’s happened?”

“I don’t—”

“Come on, Jamie,” prompted Jack, slinging his arm across the back of her chair. “The pair of you couldn’t keep your hands off one another on the way here, but since we left the apartment you haven’t said two words to one another. I’m getting frostbite just from sitting next to you. Seriously, look at my goosebumps.”

Jack rolled the sleeve of his shirt up to exemplify his point but JJ didn’t look. She prodded sullenly at her cold coq au vin, chasing a mushroom around the plate with her fork. 

“Aw, JJ,” Bill sighed. “Did you stick it in the wrong hole?”

“Did you drop the L-word?”

“Did you go broke?”

“We didn’t go broke, all right?” scoffed Jack. And then, frowning at JJ, “Wait — we haven’t gone broke, have we?”

The last thing JJ wanted to do was open up to Jack and Bill about her sex life; it was about the most mortifying ordeal she could imagine subjecting herself to. That said, she’d been racking her brain nonstop all evening, hitting rewind and pause and zoom on that movie in her mind, and she was still no closer to divining the error she’d made. JJ wasn’t always the best when it came down to discerning what people found offensive or inappropriate. It was an endless source of frustration for her.

If that was the case, though, she’d rather know exactly what it was so that she could both express her sincere regret and vow never to make the same mistake again. She only hadn’t apologised sooner because she didn’t want to offer an apology that wasn’t earnest. Yaz would be able to see through her in a heartbeat if JJ said she was sorry without first understanding what she’d done wrong. 

So, though it pained her deeply, JJ decided to bite the bullet and ask Jack and Bill for advice — though part of her wondered if that decision might end up reaping even greater consequences. 

“It’s not exactly, uh, polite dinner conversation,” she revealed, tapping her spoon against the rim of her plate. 

Bill and Jack swapped a grin. 

“Well, now I gotta hear this,” said Jack, plucking the spoon from JJ’s fingers and setting it down on her napkin before she cracked the dish. 

JJ huffed. “I don’t understand how it even happened. We were — we were having—”

“Sex?” asked Bill. JJ turned as pink as the sky and Bill broke out into a laugh. “Oh, mate, how hasn’t Yaz crushed you, yet?”

“Ah, give her some credit. I bet JJ’s the boss in the bedroom, right?” reckoned Jack, clapping JJ on the back. “She’s a dark horse, this one.” 

Bill gave Jack an incredulous look. “Wanna bet?”

“Another wager?” Jack kissed his teeth. “Honey, I think you have a problem. And that’s coming from me.”

“What’s the matter, mate? Scared of losing?”

“Can we please get back to my thing?” interrupted JJ before Jack got the chance to respond — though part of her was tempted to let him lose a few quid, if only to teach him a lesson about putting his money where his mouth is. 

“Sorry, sorry, you’re right. Proceed,” encouraged Jack. “You were boni— uh, doing the hanky panky, and then what?”

“And then she just stormed off,” JJ went on, tearing her napkin to shreds and balling the ribbons up between her fingers. “Didn’t even give me the chance to, y’know, return the favour. She just locked the bathroom and wouldn’t come out ‘til I left.” She tossed one of the paper balls onto her plate and slumped back against her chair sulkily. 

Bill pursed her lips. “Well, what did you say before she stormed off?”

“Nothin’.” JJ threw her hands up; at a loss. “I mean, not _after_ I, um… finished.”

“And before?”

JJ thought back to the moment that quandary of a frown blighted Yaz’s face; thought back to precisely what she’d been doing when it happened. She pulled at the collar of her shirt. This was certainly one of the more humiliating conversations of her life.

“Well, I — I were askin’ her to let me…” JJ looked between each of them with her hands spread, hoping for a little mercy from the heavens above. “Y’know?” As it happened, the heavens were not in a merciful mood. Two blank faces stared back at her and JJ groaned, burying her warm face in her hands. “To let me _come._ ”

“Ha!” exclaimed Bill, loud enough for the diners closest to them to turn their heads. She pointed victoriously at Jack. “Knew she was a bottom!”

Jack grumbled and dismissed her triumph with a wave of his hand, neither of them too concerned with the fact that Bill had just announced an appallingly private aspect of JJ’s sex life to a terrace full of strangers. JJ forced a polite smile onto her face for the benefit of an elderly woman who was eyeing her with disdain through the leaves of the rubber plant dividing their tables.

“All right, so you begged a little,” shrugged Jack. “No biggie.”

“Pretty sure that’s the kinda thing that gets someone like Yaz off anyway, mate,” Bill agreed, picking up her beer. She narrowed her eyes and paused with it halfway to her lips. “What did you say, exactly? Like, verbatim?”

JJ’s brows slanted inward. “Oh, c’mon — d’you really need a word for word account?”

“Hey, do you want our help or not?” challenged Jack. The tone of his voice told JJ he was enjoying this much more than he ought to have been. 

“I’m thinkin’ maybe not.”

Bill chuckled around a swig of her beer. “Ah, we’re in too deep to turn back, now. Come on, let’s have it.”

“Christ. Fine,” yielded JJ, quelling the urge to jump off the balcony. “I said, uh — I mean, I just said the usual. I said I’d do anythin’. Um, I said I’d pay her back; give her whatever she wanted. I just—”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Jack cut in, holding up a finger. “You used those words exactly? You’d give her anything she wanted? Pay her back?”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, JJ, you adorable idiot.” Bill shook her head and JJ frowned between her and Jack, still not seeing what was apparently abundantly clear to them. “You did _not_ offer to pay her while you were having sex.” 

“ _What_?” squeaked JJ. “No! I — pay her back as in, like, return the favour!”

“And by ‘give her anything’, you meant what, exactly?” asked Jack.

“Um…” JJ looked down at the table, forehead creased. “I dunno, it just came out. I wasn’t thinkin’.” Her head snapped up. “But I didn’t mean it like that! She must know that, right?”

Jack pressed his lips into a sympathetic wince. “JJ, buddy…”

“Christ, half of me wants to smack you and the other half of me wants to wrap you in a blanket and pat your head,” muttered Bill.

JJ rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms and groaned. It was no wonder Yaz had been giving her the cold shoulder. In hindsight, she definitely could have worded it a lot better. The two of them were treading a fine line and JJ had just taken a running leap over it, in Yaz’s eyes. 

It was one thing to admit to herself that Yaz only stuck around because she gave her money and expensive gifts; it was another for her to assume that that somehow meant Yaz was some kind of courtesan and could be bought in the bedroom — which _hadn’t_ been JJ’s assumption. Not even close. But Yaz wasn’t to know that. 

“Maybe you ought to write yourself a script next time,” suggested Jack.

“Fuck.” JJ crossed her arms over the table and dropped her forehead on top of them. 

“Good thing you like grovelling so much, mate, ‘cause I reckon you’re gonna have to really push the boat out with this one,” Bill presumed unhelpfully. “Hey, why don’t you have a drink or five to calm your nerves? Dunno about you, but it always helps me to forget my problems when I get blackout drunk.” She nudged the wine bottle across the table towards JJ. 

“C’mon, that’s coercion,” argued Jack.

“Never said that were against the rules.”

“It’s implied!”

The sound of Yaz’s heels striking stone prompted JJ to lift her head. When Yaz reached their table, however, she merely proceeded to lift her jacket from the back of her chair and shrug it on over her dress. “I’m not feeling well,” she said, pulling her hair out from beneath her collar and avoiding JJ’s unblinking stare. “Think I’m just gonna grab a taxi and go to bed.” 

“Oh. Okay,” mumbled JJ, shoulders sagging dejectedly. Jack and Bill both kicked her under the table at the same time and she yelped. “Oh! I mean, uh, d’you want some company?” 

“Yeah, actually,” said Yaz, and she met JJ’s eyes for the first time all night — startling JJ so much that all she could think to do was offer a way-too-intense grin — only for them to roll off her like water and find Bill instead. “Bill?”

JJ’s grin slipped from her face. Bill shot her an apologetic smile and pulled on her denim jacket as she climbed out of her seat. 

“Um, hang on.” JJ plucked some cash out of her wallet and handed it to Bill — she didn’t think it would go over too well if she offered it to Yaz at present. “For the taxi. Get home safe, yeah? Both of you.” 

“I’ll text you when we get in,” offered Bill when it became apparent that Yaz had no intentions of acknowledging her.

“Thanks, Bill.” 

With a final nod, Bill put her hand on Yaz’s back and they made their way across the terrace. JJ stared after them in the hopes that Yaz might turn her head; take a final look over her shoulder; let her heart win out over her head — just this once. She didn’t. JJ supposed, for that to work, she’d have to have a place in Yaz’s heart in the first place. Oh, to be so lucky.

“Making their exit before the cheque arrives,” mused Jack in good humour. “Women and their wiles, right?” When JJ only continued to stare pathetically at the doorway, Jack’s words like white noise amidst her baseless hope that Yaz might come back for something she’d forgotten (though JJ was the only thing she’d left behind), Jack sighed and waved the waiter over. “Let’s get a couple drinks in, huh? Give your girl some time to cool off. Trust me, in a couple hours’ time, this’ll all have blown over.”

* * *

JJ was only slightly tipsy when she and Jack stumbled into their moonlit apartment almost two hours later; the fresh air from their walk home having done her some good. They’d passed through a small green on their way, and JJ had picked a bunch of flowers and what she hoped Yaz wouldn’t realise were just pretty weeds.

Jack grabbed JJ by her shoulders when they reached the living room and looked her square in the eye. “So, what are you gonna say?”

“I’m sorry, it’s all my fault, I don’t think you’re a prostitute,” JJ recounted. They’d been rehearsing her apology on the way. 

“And?”

“And I’m an idiot.”

“And?”

JJ stalled. “Um.”

“And I’m right down the hall if she needs a shoulder to cry on,” Jack teased with a wink. JJ gave him a shove and he laughed, pulling her into a lenient headlock and ruffling her hair like a forgivably infuriating older brother. Which, in a way, he was. 

“Jack!” hissed JJ. She wrestled out of his arms and pushed away from him, smoothing her hair down in the reflection of the TV. She pursed her lips. “How do I look?”

“Like you’re about to get laid,” said Jack, straightening JJ’s collar and chucking her chin. “Night, kiddo. Hope all goes well with the sugar baby. Remember — she’s right and you’re wrong. No matter what!”

With that, they went their separate ways. 

Upon arriving at the door to her bedroom, JJ took a deep breath, hid the flowers behind her back, and knocked. Her knuckles were already coming down against the wood for a fourth time when she began to fret that Yaz had been sleeping; that she’d just woken her up and that now she’d have yet another thing to apologise for. But then—

“It’s open,” called Yaz. 

JJ breathed a sigh of relief. She opened the door to find both Bill and Yaz sat on the bed. Yaz was still in her evening dress, but Bill had changed into sweats and a tee. 

“Oh. Hi, Bill.” 

“Hiya, mate.” Bill squeezed Yaz’s knee and climbed out of bed. “Right, I’ll be off. Keep the screaming down, yeah? The moaning, too.” 

“Bill,” scolded Yaz. 

Bill sniggered and patted JJ’s head affectionately on her way past. When the door was closed and JJ was sure she could make out the sound of receding footsteps, JJ stepped further into the room and extended a warm smile like an olive branch. Yaz didn’t take it. Instead, she pushed herself off the bed and headed towards the vanity in the corner to remove her earrings. 

JJ tried not to let Yaz’s frosty airs chill the warmth she had come bearing galore. “Uh, I brought you somethin’.”

She flourished her feeble bouquet, some of the stems having bent and snapped during her scuffle with Jack, and Yaz frowned at it in the mirror. She turned and lifted her brows. “Did you just steal those from someone’s garden?”

“They’re from the park,” JJ admitted diffidently. She did her best to straighten the flowers, that they might make a less pitiful offering. 

“That explains the spider on your hand.” 

“What?”

JJ looked down. A large spider with a brown, furry body was crawling over the back of her hand. She let slip an immensely undignified yelp and tossed the flowers onto the floor, shaking her hand violently and springing onto the bed.

“Yaz — Yaz, where is it?” JJ tore her jacket off and tossed it aside, walking circles around herself and inspecting her clothes as she checked her whole body for spiders. “Yaz!”

“Oh, my god — relax! It’s on the floor.” Yaz crouched down by the scattered bouquet and cupped her hands around the spider, nudging it into one of her palms. “Hiya, mate. You’re not so bad, are you? Wanna say hello to JJ?”

“Do not bring that thing near me!” squealed JJ, backing up into the wall as Yaz approached the bed with the spider in hand. “I’m serious, Yaz, please!”

“Look, it’s harmless,” claimed Yaz, lifting her cupped hands towards JJ. “Why don’t you hold—”

“Yaz!” JJ grabbed a pillow and used it as a shield. “Take it outside, please!”

Yaz kissed her teeth and lifted one of her hands to peer at the spider. “Sorry, mate. No room at the inn.” To JJ’s monumental relief, she headed for the balcony and nudged the door open with her elbow. 

“All the way out!” JJ shouted. “Like, drop it off the side of the balcony.”

“I don’t wanna kill him.”

“Oh, like it wouldn’t do the same to us in a heartbeat?”

“It’s, like, the size of a coin.”

“Which is the _only_ thing stoppin’ it from murderin’ us.”

“God, you’re such a baby,” ribbed Yaz. She stepped out onto the balcony and leaned over the side of the parapet, placing the spider carefully on the ledge of the building. She dusted her palms off and returned to the room, eyeing the sorry pile of bent and disbanded flowers on the floor whilst closing the door. “You really need to work on your peace offerings, JJ.”

Glancing nervously at said peace officering, JJ reluctantly stepped off the bed. “Yeah, I — oh, right! Have I said sorry, yet?”

“Not once, babe.”

“Right, ‘cos I’m an idiot, and — ah, wait, that’s the wrong order. What was it again? Uh, I’m deeply sorry, I don’t think you’re a prostitute,” listed JJ, counting each proclamation off on her fingers, “I’m an idiot... um. Oh! You’re always right.” 

Yaz crossed her arms. “Why do you sound like you’re reading from a script?”

JJ scratched the back of her head. “Uh.”

“Lemme guess, Jack told you what to say,” assumed Yaz. JJ averted her eyes guiltily and Yaz scoffed. “You know what, I’m not sharing a bed with you, tonight.”

“No, wait!” JJ stepped up to Yaz with her hands raised, staying her before she could make a move for the door. “Please, just gimme a minute to say my piece. If y’still don’t wanna share a bed after that, then I’ll take the sofa.”

“Good, ‘cos I weren’t gonna take it.”

“Well — right, okay. Excellent.” Throwing the script out of the window, and making a mental note to give Jack a smack upside the head for his useless advice, JJ scratched her eyebrow and tried to visualise the perfect words to make this all better again and convince Yaz that the way she saw her in no way aligned with the way Yaz _thought_ she saw her. “Look, what I said in bed earlier, I realise now how it came across. It was a properly stupid thing to say, but I promise that’s not what I meant. I wasn’t offering to pay you, Yaz. I was just sayin’ words. Whatever came into my head.”

Yaz took a small step back when JJ tried to reach for her. “You know, JJ, just because I’m a stripper, that doesn’t mean I just go around giving myself away to people for a quick quid.” She held a finger up to silence JJ when she made to cut in. “D’you think this is where I thought I were gonna be at this stage in my life? I want more than this. I went to university, I have a master’s in performing arts — I want _more_. So, you can’t just treat me like—”

“I know, Yasmin,” assured JJ softly. “I know. And you _are_ more. It doesn’t bother me, what you do. Not in the way you think. It just — it came out all wrong. Everything I say comes out wrong and I — I can’t help it, sometimes. I’m not tryna make excuses; I’m just tryna explain myself.”

Though Yaz’s arms were still crossed, it looked to JJ like the ice was beginning to thaw. Time to turn up the heat.

“I know our arrangement, Yaz. Yes, okay, I give you money and you stick around,” granted JJ, trying not to betray just how much that fact distressed her, “but I want you to know that, even if you didn’t want to — even if you didn’t want to sleep with me, I’d still treat you the exact same way I do, now.”

Clearly thrown by JJ’s allegation, Yaz studied her face. Her hands fell slowly to her sides. “You’d keep me around even if I didn’t fuck you?”

“Haven’t I made that clear?”

“Why?” asked Yaz, in a manner suggesting to JJ that she couldn’t think of a single possible reason JJ would want to keep her around other than for her body.

“Yaz,” JJ sighed quietly, daring to lift a hand to her cheek. When Yaz didn’t swat her away, she curled her fingers around the soft spot at the base of her skull and stroked the side of her face with her thumb. Yaz glanced at it warily. “I worship the ground you walk on, Yasmin. I don’t think I’ve ever made a secret of that.”

The muscles of Yaz’s jaw clenched beneath JJ’s thumb. “Still up on that pedestal, am I?”

JJ tilted her head. “Is that a bad thing?”

An uneasy look rippled outwards across Yaz’s face like disturbed water, altering each of her features one by one. JJ wasn’t quick enough at decoding the taut pull of her mouth and the slope of her brow and the disconcerting shadow that passed through the depths of her dark eyes before the surface of the water stilled once more. JJ tried to see past the facade, but it was like looking into a lake with a mirrored surface. 

She wished Yaz would just speak her mind more. It was something she had no qualms about doing usually — except for when it really mattered. JJ was terrible at guessing people’s feelings. All she ever wanted was for somebody to go easy on her once in a while. She should’ve known not to expect that from someone like Yaz. 

Yaz sighed. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You can stay.”

JJ’s face might have been glowing for how brilliantly it lit up. She grinned at Yaz and slipped her hand to the back of her neck, caressing the small hairs she hid beneath thicker, longer tresses with her fingertips as she leaned in to kiss her. Her lips had hardly made the softest impression against Yaz’s when she felt a hand at her chest. 

“I said you could stay,” Yaz spoke against her mouth. “I didn’t say I forgave you.”

JJ blinked and pulled back. “Wait, what?”

Yaz brushed past JJ, who stared mystified after her, and sat down on the bed with her back to the headboard. She smoothed the dark satin of her dress down. Without looking up, she said, “That’s gonna take a little more work, babe.” The dangerous cadence of her voice, JJ had at least learned to read far better than all those tricky microexpressions she was forever contending with.

“Yasmin, please,” pleaded JJ, climbing onto the mattress from the foot of the bed and crawling towards her. 

She was still on all fours, just shy of Yaz’s legs, when Yaz lifted her foot and pressed the flat toe of her sole to JJ’s forehead. Briefly forgetting her place, JJ failed to reign in her eyes when they walked along the inside of Yaz’s leg and landed on her exposed lingerie. She inched her hand forwards and Yaz dropped her heel to JJ’s shoulder, digging in painfully.

“I didn’t say you could touch me, JJ,” cautioned Yaz. “I said work. Grovel. Tell me how sorry you are.” With another sharp twist of her heel, JJ tore her eyes away from the prize she so coveted at last.

“Christ, Yaz, I’ve never been more sorry in my life,” JJ declared guilelessly. “I — I messed up. I really messed up. Forgive me. Please. Lemme make it up to you.” Despite her best efforts, JJ’s wayward gaze again dropped beneath the hem of Yaz’s dress. She pulled her lip between her teeth. “Please.”

Yaz’s leg bent ever-so-slightly, allowing JJ a little more space to roam. She crawled as far forwards as possible until she was on her hands and knees above one of Yaz’s ankles. 

“You can do whatever you want to me, Yaz.” JJ’s eyes raked slowly up from between Yaz’s legs and across her chest; they loitered on the complacent curl of mulberry lips and then finally found their way home — to enveloping, jet black eyes. “Anythin’. Anythin’ at all.”

Risking wrath untold for her defiance, JJ curled a hand around Yaz’s ankle and pressed a soft kiss to her shin. She glanced nervously at Yaz. Her face gave nothing away, but JJ took it as a good sign that she hadn’t kicked her off, yet. She kissed her again, a few inches further along her leg, and then further still until she reached her knee. 

The second Yaz dropped her leg, JJ surged forwards — lest Yaz changed her mind on a whim — and crawled over her body until the gap between their faces was microscopic at best. They were so close she could taste Yaz’s breath; the discordant notes of both red wine and menthol weaseling in through the slight gap between JJ’s lips and settling on her tongue. Yaz had a habit of stealing JJ’s gum. At last count, there were three half-empty packets rattling around in her purse. 

“I’m so sorry, Yasmin,” JJ reiterated quietly. Too cowardly to go for the lips, she nosed Yaz’s neck instead. She smelled like the perfume JJ had bought for her. 

Bergamot, blackcurrant, marjoram, lavender, frankincense. Every inhale of her was like stepping out into a hot, spring shower. Thunder broke with every jump of her pulse. She was an earthy, abyssal woodland of sensations — and JJ was looking to get thoroughly lost. 

It roused her to no end to think that even down to the flavour of her breath and the scent sticking to her skin, evidence of JJ was everywhere on Yaz. She was wearing the dress and heels JJ had gifted her; had just removed a pair of earrings Yaz had ordered for herself using JJ’s card. The lingerie was the only thing JJ couldn’t remember buying. She reminded herself to ruin them and buy her a brand new pair. 

Yaz dragged a finger along the curve of JJ’s throat and brought it to a stop beneath her chin, lifting her head until they were eye to eye. JJ didn’t feel worthy of such an honour. 

“You don’t know the meaning of the word sorry, yet, babe,” Yaz crooned. 

“So, teach me,” whispered JJ. “Teach me how to be sorry.”

Resisting the magnetic pull of Yaz’s lips became impossible. All it took was a twitch of muscle and their mouths connected. A deep rumble from way deep in JJ’s chest sounded at the fusion of soft pink and sticky purple — another of JJ’s endless gifts. Yaz’s lips parted and JJ chased a stronger high. Her tongue slid past the rim of Yaz’s teeth with all the keenness of a pioneer exploring brand new terrain. She only hadn’t expected the natives to be so hostile.

Yaz’s teeth clamped down on JJ’s lip and her eyes snapped open, a grunt falling forth from her captive mouth. Smirking around JJ’s stinging lip, Yaz drew her head back and JJ was left with no choice but to follow, needy for a little slack. Only when the back of Yaz’s head hit the frame of the bed, did she release JJ’s lip from between her teeth. JJ resisted the urge to check if it was bleeding. 

“Remember, Jamie,” Yaz sang, curling a hand around JJ’s throat, “you asked for this.” 

And it wasn’t Yaz looking at her, then. It was the monster that lived inside of her. The merciless god, the vengeful angel, the beast in the molten belly of the earth. It was one of the many deities JJ worshipped — even if they all wore Yaz’s face. 

That night, Yaz taught JJ three different meanings of the word sorry. Sorry left her covered in handprints and bruises and marks all over. Sorry was ripe as peaches and burst just the same into her open mouth. A sacred fruit, a sacrament, a sin-drenched blessing between sweat soaked sheets. Sorry was a word she rolled backwards and forwards on her tongue like an olive pit; one she refused to choke down or spit out until every last morsel was licked clean from the stone.

So, too, did JJ relearn the meaning of forgiveness again and again. Forgiveness was the whites of her eyes and the blue of unspooling veins and her head thrown back in both the agonies and raptures of an oil painting from centuries past. Forgiveness was mercy. Forgiveness was meeting boundaries and never pushing them. Forgiveness was forever and it was finite and it was a constant, raging battle between the two. 

In the damp soil of that battlefield, JJ buried her olive pit like a secret, that it might put down roots and grow; that it might one day bear the fruits of her labour; that ‘sorry’ might become ‘someday’ might become ‘today and tomorrow and the rest of our days, I belong with you’.

But first, the seed would have to take.


	4. heartless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yea not much happens in this one basically everyone's just drunk and horny but u know what there's nothin wrong with that babeyy

Yaz knew JJ wasn’t great at subtlety, but sometimes she had to wonder what went through her head and what specifications an idea must have had to meet in order for her to consider it a good one. 

Yaz, Bill, and Jack were all seated at the island in the kitchen having breakfast. Jack was dressed in his suit for work, while Bill and Yaz were still wearing the clothes they’d slept in. For Yaz, all that outfit consisted of was a pair of Calvins and an oversized grey tee with a faded _Tom and Jerry_ print on the front. They were chatting companionably about nothing in particular over coffee and orange juice and a selection of buttery pastries that JJ must have picked up on the way back from her run that morning, when the woman herself walked into the room. 

Three heads turned upon her cheery, “Mornin’ everyone!” and three pairs of eyes stuck to her like glue as she made for the cafetiere on the kitchen counter and poured herself a mug of coffee. Yaz froze with the last bite of her croissant halfway to her lips.

JJ was wearing one of her usual neatly tailored pantsuits: pale blue with a crisp white shirt and loafers. Small hearts patterned the shirt, and Yaz didn’t have to be able to see her boxers to know they’d be a match. None of this was what gave the group pause. What gave them pause was JJ’s bizarre choice to accessorise her outfit with a wooly, rainbow scarf. 

Upon noticing that she was being stared at, JJ frowned at each member of her mystified audience in turn as she heaped several loaded spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee. “What?”

Yaz hadn’t had a chance to see her that morning; she’d already left for her run when Yaz got up and she headed straight to the shower whilst Yaz was waking Bill for breakfast. However, thinking back on last night’s events, she was pretty positive she’d left her with some embarrassingly stark, impassioned mementos. She usually tried to leave them where none could see, but the two of them had been so engulfed in the thrill of one another’s ecstasy that neither of them had thought to stop her.

“You do know it’s about twenty degrees outside, right?” Jack asked, cleaning his fingers on a napkin and sitting back on his stool. “What’s with the scarf, Poppins?”

JJ shrugged. “Just think it completes my outfit.” 

Bill made her disagreement clear with a kiss of her teeth. “Mate, you’re wearing a thrift shop rainbow scarf with a blue pantsuit.”

“I think it’s cute,” Yaz piped up, winking at JJ when she looked up at her over the rim of her mug. 

Both Bill and Jack turned to Yaz with bemused frowns; clearly having expected her to chime in with a derisive remark of her own rather than jump to JJ’s defense. She realised her mistake when their eyes hopped suspiciously between she and JJ. They clocked on at the same moment and swapped a knowing smirk. Bill swivelled around in her stool to face JJ. 

“I really like it, actually,” she said, sliding from the chair and taking slow, predatory steps towards JJ. “Mind if I try it on?”

JJ backed away in the direction of Yaz’s stool. “I’d rather you didn’t. I’m quite possessive over my things.”

Jack was next out of his seat. Bill continued to back JJ up and Jack rounded the island to corner her from behind. “C’mon, Jamie, I think it’d suit Bill a lot better. Don’t you?”

“Um.” JJ looked at Yaz helplessly, SOS written plain across her face. 

Yaz sighed. “Guys, come on. Leave her alone.” 

She might as well have saved her breath. 

“Now!” shouted Bill, and before JJ could make a run for it, Jack wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug that pinned her arms to her sides and Bill began to unwrap the scarf from around her neck while she squirmed in Jack’s arms.

“Yaz!” cried JJ, but Yaz only gave a resigned shake of her head and polished off the last of her croissant without a word.

Bill yanked the scarf clean off JJ’s neck and bore her shame to the world. Yaz winced when she saw the state of her skin; at the two tasteless, bruise-hued marks protruding from the collar of her blazer. Bill and Jack erupted into laughter and JJ stomped on Jack’s foot and pushed herself out of his reflexively loosened hold with a pout. She turned her collar up, but the damage was done. 

“Bloody hell, Yaz, you don’t hold back, do you?” Bill snickered into her fist. 

Carrying her empty plate over to the sink, Yaz offered an unapologetic shrug. She was far more immune to being teased than JJ, who trailed after her like a scolded child seeking out the more sympathetic parent. 

“God, Jamie, we’ve got meetings all day,” chided Jack, but he was laughing too much for it to come across as reprimanding in any way. He looked at Yaz. “Take it all’s forgiven, then?”

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” grumbled JJ, leaning against the fridge next to Yaz with her arms crossed. “Your advice were terrible.” 

Bill furrowed her brow as she poured herself a second cup of coffee. “Thought you’d forgiven her before she even got back? I mean, I explained why—”

Yaz turned sharply from the sink to shoot Bill a wilting glare and she clammed up, realisation of her faux pas landing as she looked from Yaz to JJ. 

“What?” JJ asked, peeling away from the fridge and frowning at Yaz.

“Whoops,” muttered Bill. She sipped her coffee guiltily and made a swift exit from the kitchen. 

Jack took his cue, too. “Uh, I’m gonna go call the car.” 

After he’d shuffled out of the room, Yaz looked to the ceiling for the strength to weather the look she knew she’d find JJ sporting when she faced her. Sure enough, her narrow eyes were varnished with confusion and the crimp between her brows was more pronounced than usual. 

“Babe—”

“I grovelled all night!” JJ stretched her arm in the general direction of their bedroom. “Yaz, I’ve never grovelled that much in my life. I said I were sorry so much that the word lost all meanin’.” 

“Yeah, you did,” stated Yaz. She stepped up to JJ and cocked her head. “And you enjoyed every second of it, didn’t you?”

JJ’s offended front faltered. “Well, yes, but—”

“So, what’s the problem?” Yaz dragged her eyes over JJ’s body, from head to toe and then back up again. She slid her hands beneath JJ’s jacket and rested them on her hips — consciously batting dark lashes at her. “Didn’t realise you had so much to complain about.”

“Yasmin Khan,” muttered JJ — already melting, as Yaz knew she would, in direct exposure to her shameless devilry. “You’re evil.”

“Turns you on, though,” Yaz bragged, pulling JJ towards her until her back hit the counter and JJ was standing between her bare legs. She turned JJ’s collar down and admired her handiwork openly. 

JJ braced her hands on the counter at either side of Yaz. “Only because everythin’ you do turns me on.”

“I know. That’s what makes it so fun,” said Yaz, draping her wrists over one another behind JJ’s neck and staring at her lips. Neither of them were looking the other in the eye. 

“You’re bad for me, you are.” 

“Quit, then.”

“Never.”

They both leaned in at the same time. Contrary to the sweet, buttery flavour of the kiss, the tension between them quickly devolved into something wanton and entirely unchaste. JJ skirted a hand beneath the hem of Yaz’s shirt and squeezed her backside with a purr against her lips and Yaz tugged their hips flush. 

“ _God_ — how do you look so good when you’ve just rolled out of bed?” wondered JJ, dropping her lips to Yaz’s throat with another self-indulgent grope. 

Yaz tilted her head to the side and closed her eyes with a sigh. “Don’t leave a mark, babe.”

JJ huffed against the curve of her jaw, but relocated her lips and tongue to another spot on her throat after a moment regardless. As ever, Yaz was tempted to comb a hand through JJ’s hair. She decided against it. She’d already left her a state after last night; she figured it wouldn’t be fair on JJ to dishevel her any further. Instead, she settled on holding her by her ribs. 

“Time you back, tonight?” she asked.

“Workin’ late,” JJ murmured unhappily against her skin. 

“How late?”

Realising where Yaz’s mind was at, JJ detached from her neck and pulled scarcely back to seek out Yaz’s eyes. “Wait for me,” she urged. 

Yaz hummed her deliberation. “If you take too long, I might have to start without you.”

“Long as y’don’t finish without me,” said JJ, tucking a curl tumbling free from Yaz’s messy bun behind her ear. 

“Can’t make any promises.”

“I’ll make it worth the wait,” JJ guaranteed, staring down at the join of their bodies before looking back up; a glister in her earthy eyes. “I’ve got a mad few days comin’ up, but I’m all yours this weekend — and I’ve got _loads_ of stuff for us to do. It’s gonna be ace.” 

“Or, we could just stay in bed the whole time?” Yaz proposed. She kissed JJ’s neck delicately, from the top of her collar to the bottom of her jaw, and JJ wove a hand through the back of her hair. 

“You — but, you’re in Paris, Yaz,” said JJ, faltering when Yaz nibbled lightly at her skin. “Don’t y’wanna see the sights?”

“Just the one,” Yaz confessed. A playful smile tugged at the outermost edges of her lips as she withdrew and gazed up at JJ, slotting her fingers into her belt loops.

“Which one?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Um, the Eiffel Tower?” asked JJ. Yaz shook her head and JJ frowned, pupils flitting to the side as she thought harder. “The Louvre?” Again, Yaz shook her head no. “Hmm. Oh! Norte—”

Putting JJ out of her clueless misery, Yaz cupped her over the front of her trousers and muffled her gasp of surprise with a kiss. She laughed against JJ’s lips at the sudden rush of warmth to her face and pulled back. “That help?”

“I — _Yaz_ , you can’t just work me up like that when I have to leave!” protested JJ, although she puffed a frustrated sigh when Yaz moved her hand from her crotch to her hip. “Don’t worry, you’ll be seein’ a lot of that, too. Promise. But we’ve also got Jack and Bill to think of, haven’t we?”

“Mm, not sure this particular attraction’s gonna be their cup of tea, babe.” 

“I meant — I mean we can’t be antisocial the whole time,” stammered JJ. “It’s rude.”

“So, let’s be rude.”

In truth, Yaz _was_ excited to be in Paris. She wanted to get to see more of the city than just the inside of their bedroom, but JJ’s comment the night prior — about how she’d keep Yaz around even if Yaz didn’t sleep with her — had settled uneasy in her gut. She felt it like a splinter nestling in deeper with every breath she took, slowly working its way to her vital organs. She was inclined to call it guilt.

JJ had always worn her big, bleeding heart on her sleeve; as such, Yaz was well aware that she deified her. That’s exactly why she didn’t want to lead her on. Their relationship was sexual. Financial, even. As far as Yaz was convinced, the removal of those two factors would render their arrangement null and void. Yaz had nothing to offer JJ except her body — certainly, she couldn’t offer her heart. She needed JJ to understand that, or else Yaz would need to leave her well enough alone before she wound up hurting her. 

Or, indeed, before she wound up getting hurt herself. It was something that had seemed a remote possibility until JJ’s confession last night. It had made her feel something she didn’t often allow herself the luxury of indulging in: hope. This only made her feel all the more stupid when, not a handful of seconds later, JJ revealed that she still had Yaz up on a pedestal. And she remembered why hope was a fool’s game. 

JJ was still blind and stupid with infatuation, which meant that none of it was real. None of what she said could be trusted. She promised she wouldn’t let herself forget that. She wouldn’t let JJ forget it, either. Not if she could help it. 

Except, JJ wasn’t biting. 

“Sorry, Yaz. Rude’s not my style,” she shrugged apologetically. “We’ll have a blast, though. You’ve got my word on that. In the meantime, I’ve left one of my cards on the nightstand. You and Bill go out and have some fun, yeah?”

“Zip it up, Jamie! Car’s here!” Jack shouted from the other room. 

JJ glanced at the doorway and wilted. “Wish I could just stay here with you all day,” she groused, squeezing Yaz’s hands in her own. 

“So, stay.”

“Y’know I can’t do that.” She lifted Yaz’s knuckles to her lips and pressed a long kiss to them. “I’ll be thinkin’ about you, though.” 

Yaz gave a sly smile. “Yeah, I’m sure you will. Here, don’t forget this.” She rounded JJ and picked the scarf up from the island. JJ watched her face closely as she wrapped it around her neck and didn’t shy away even when Yaz looked up and caught her staring while she tied it for her. When she was done, Yaz gave JJ a fleeting peck on the corner of her mouth. “Good luck, babe. I’ll see you later.” 

She turned to leave. 

It wasn’t often that JJ caught Yaz off guard, but she definitely didn’t expect it when JJ grabbed her by her wrist, yanked her back around, and proceeded to kiss her breathless with her face cradled in her hands. It also wasn’t often that JJ left her speechless. However, when she pulled away from the heated kiss with a wide grin and a, “Yeah, you will,” Yaz could do nothing but stare after her as she walked away with a skip in her step.

* * *

Yaz spent the rest of the week exploring the city with Bill. 

During the day, they visited museums and brasseries and gardens; sometimes electing to travel a short distance outside the city to avoid tourist traps and get a real flavour of France. At night, they hit up bars and clubs — Bill could be extremely persuasive when she wanted to be and she’d usually arranged to meet one in a string of French girls (and sometimes their friends) from Tinder without Yaz’s knowledge.

An unfortunate consequence of this was that Yaz got to spend a lot less time with JJ than she’d anticipated. She’d be getting ready to go back out for the night just as JJ was getting in, and JJ was always too tired to join them. When Yaz eventually returned — leaving Bill to disappear to her room with a woman she’d managed to entice into bed — she’d find JJ out like a light.

So far, they’d not had sex once since their second night. Needless to say, Yaz was growing increasingly frustrated. 

Friday evening rolled around and Yaz decided she was going to amend their situation. She convinced Bill to abandon any ideas she had about hitting up another club by promising her they’d all have a drink at the apartment together instead. Besides, Yaz didn’t think she had it in her to play her wingwoman for one more night at the expense of her own needs being sated. She’d done her part for Bill and then some; it was time for Yaz to get hers.

There wasn’t much ceremony in how she went about it. 

In fact, the second JJ got in from work and entered their bedroom, she’d hardly closed the door behind her when Yaz slammed her up against it and kissed her.

“ _Mmph_ — hiya, Yaz,” JJ mumbled against her mouth. 

“No talking,” said Yaz, encouraging JJ’s compliance by slipping her tongue into her mouth. 

JJ readily obliged. She pulled Yaz closer by her waist and slid a hand into the back pocket of her shorts. In response, Yaz jammed a leg between her thighs. Desperation drove their every action. 

There was nothing slow or deliberate about the way they handled one another; not a lick of patience in sight when Yaz dragged JJ away from the door only to remove her blazer and then shove her right back against the wood. She yanked JJ’s suspenders off her shoulders and fastened her lips to her neck and JJ dug her fingers into her hips with a sigh. 

“Uh, so, does this mean you’re not mad at me?”

Yaz frowned but her fingers didn’t falter in their effort to unbuckle JJ’s belt and she didn’t pull away from her throat. “What you on about?”

JJ loosened her tie and popped open the top button of her collar. “Well, I’ve hardly seen you all week. Were beginnin’ to think you’d lost interest. Or, that I’d put my foot in it. Again.” 

“You worry too much,” reckoned Yaz. She slid JJ’s flyer down and lifted her leg around her hip — but paused just before her fingers could slip past the zipper. She looked at JJ. “You’ve been thinking I’d lost interest this whole time and didn’t say anything?”

JJ dropped her eyes. “To be honest, I — I were kinda worried about what you’d say if I were to ask.”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“I mean, you’ve been out every night. Sometimes, you don’t get in ‘til the early hours of the mornin’,” elaborated JJ. “If you’ve been sleeping with other people, I’d rather not know. Ignorance is bliss, an’ all that.”

“JJ, you daft…” Yaz dropped JJ’s thigh and cupped her cheeks so that she’d be unable to shy away from the sincerity on Yaz’s face when she spoke next. “D’you really think I’d let you bring me to a luxury apartment in Paris on a private jet only to spend the whole time shagging other people? I dunno what you must think of me, babe, but I wouldn’t do that. You brought me here for me and you, right? You’re looking after me. _And_ Bill. If I’m gonna be seein’ other people, it’s not gonna be while we’re away together. It’s not gonna be while I’m living off you.”

“If?”

“When,” corrected Yaz. She searched JJ; lips turned down in sympathy. “Would you really have just let me do that? Let me take you for a fool, rinse you dry, and sleep with half of Paris right under your nose?”

JJ shrugged and fiddled with the hem of Yaz’s flannel shirt. “Just want you to be happy, Yasmin.”

“And what about you? What about your happiness?” Yaz prised JJ’s fingers from her top and slotted her own through the gaps. “You worry me, sometimes, Jamie.”

“I do?” JJ’s arrant shock broke Yaz’s heart. Had she really given her cause to think otherwise?

“Of _course_ you do. I care about you, babe.” Yaz lifted JJ’s chin with a knuckle. “You do know that, don’t you?”

JJ chewed her bottom lip, staring at Yaz’s hand in her own when she said, “What if I lost everythin’ tomorrow? What if I didn’t have anythin’ to give you, anymore?”

“What?” Yaz disentangled their fingers and took a step back. “Jesus, JJ, have I really treated you so bad? I’d still want you to be happy. I’d still want the best for you. How heartless d’you think I am?”

“No, I—”

“And, more importantly, why would you even keep me around if that’s what you thought of me? Why would you want someone in your life who you didn’t think even liked you?” Yaz challenged. She wasn’t angry, but her concern simmered just as hot. She’d have time to worry about that later. “D’you really have so little respect for yourself?”

JJ regarded Yaz speechlessly for a moment. Yaz realised she’d never expressed her care in such a forward manner before, but it hurt her to think that meant JJ couldn’t see that it was there. She should have known. JJ didn’t take cues and hints as easily as others. She needed things put to her in clear terms. Though Yaz was upfront about most things, her feelings didn’t tend to fall within such a scope. 

But what could she do? 

If she showed too much affection, JJ would get the wrong idea. Not enough, and she ended up hurting her in a different way entirely. This was starting to get complicated. Yaz had vowed to bow out the instant that happened, but it was so much easier said than done when JJ fixed her with those unavoidable, glassy eyes and wrapped her hands around Yaz’s forearms.

“It’s not me, who thinks those things,” she explained. “I — I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. Sometimes, people just get in my head about stuff. Even if I don’t believe it, it sticks. And I get all anxious and obsessive.” 

Yaz had an inkling that when JJ said ‘people’, she probably just meant Jack. He was her closest friend, after all, and it’s not like he knew Yaz very well. From the outside looking in, it was easy to make assumptions. Still, she couldn’t be mad at him for looking out for JJ. Heaven only knew she needed _someone_ to do it.

“Next time, just talk to me, okay?” implored Yaz. “If there’s something you wanna know, ask. I’ll be honest with you.”

JJ nodded. Her hands drifted from Yaz’s arms to her shoulders and a shy smile crept onto her face. “D’you think you could tell me one more time?”

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me you care about me.”

Yaz breathed a laugh. She thudded her forehead against JJ’s and cupped her cheeks. “I care about you, babe,” she whispered — and kissed her. Unhurried, this time. Slow and explorative and considerate. It felt like a prelude to something more. 

However, they never got a chance to find out what the main act might have been when — seconds after Yaz walked JJ back up against the door — it flung open against them and sent the pair crashing gracelessly towards the ground. JJ landed on top of Yaz; a knee between her legs and a shoulder in her face. 

“Oof — sorry, Yaz,” said JJ, rubbing her forehead where she’d banged it against the floor. Thankfully, the shag carpet softened the blow.

Yaz blew JJ’s hair out of her face to find Bill grinning wickedly down at them. 

“Whoops. Am I interrupting?”

“Yes. Piss off.”

Bill clicked her tongue. “Well, you’d better hurry up, ‘cos me and Jack are opening that fancy wine and I can’t promise there’ll be any left by the time you’re done here.”

JJ lifted her weight off Yaz and turned her head. “ _My_ fancy wine?”

“ _Our_ fancy wine, I think you’ll find,” winked Bill. “You know, you two should really learn to lock your door. Dread to think what I’d have walked in on five minutes from now.”

“Maybe, you should try learning to knock,” countered Yaz impatiently. 

“Nah, where’s the fun in that?”

“Bill.”

“All right, all right!” Bill chuckled. “Seriously, though — better make it a quickie. Shall I set you an alarm? Ten minutes enough?”

Yaz rolled JJ off her and sat up. “Pretty sure you’ve just killed the mood anyway, mate.”

Bill winced apologetically and offered Yaz her hand. “Just wait while you get this wine in you,” she said, pulling Yaz up and then doing the same for JJ. “Always makes you horny, wine, doesn’t it?”

“Sure.” Yaz smoothed out the creases in her clothes and gave Bill a pointed look. “Or angry.” 

“Ha. Lucky for you, JJ,” quipped Bill, slinging an arm over JJ’s shoulder and leaning in to whisper a conspiratorial, “She’s sexy when she’s angry, eh?”

“Choose your next words carefully, babe.”

JJ took one look at the challenge on Yaz’s face and delicately peeled herself away from Bill. “Actually, she’s quite terrifyin’ when she’s angry.”

Yaz smirked and slotted her hand into JJ’s. “And that,” she began, pressing a kiss to JJ’s cheek, “is the right answer.”

* * *

An hour later, the four friends were lounging in the living room and bathing in the burnt orange glow of the setting sun, which pooled in through the open balcony doors and bounced off the hardwood floors. 

Bill’s music played from a speaker on the mantel — a selection of easy listening, acoustic songs to kick off the night. They were already a priceless bottle of wine down, and an affable, relaxed atmosphere had settled over the group. Yaz and JJ sat tangled in one another’s limbs on the L-curve of the sectional sofa. Bill was stretched out on the other end, and Jack sat on an armchair with his feet on the table. 

Yaz had fully intended on having a few quiet drinks and then escaping with JJ in tow; eager as she was to pick up where they left off. Things didn’t quite go according to plan. 

“How about a game of dares?” proposed Jack, getting up to uncork a second bottle of wine and pour everybody another large glass without bothering to ask — not that any of them protested when he filled them up. 

“Dares is a kids’ game,” JJ pointed out, taking a sip of her wine and then setting it down so that she could put her arms back around Yaz.

“Not the way I play it, kiddo.”

“I’m down,” shrugged Bill, surprising nobody. 

She and Jack looked to Yaz and JJ. And then JJ looked to Yaz. And Yaz sighed.

“I’m so gonna regret this.”

Extending a broad, triumphant smile, Jack lay the empty wine bottle down on the middle of the coffee table. With a resounding spin, the games began. 

Things were relatively tame for a while. Limbs, lips and attitudes all became looser, however, when somebody cracked open a bottle of whiskey and the sun succumbed to the horizon. Yaz always thought there was something about the cover of true night that emboldened people to act without constraints. There was a good reason the club was always busier at the dead of night. 

The bottle landed on Jack, and Bill dared him to play the rest of the game in his boxers. He had zero qualms about this, despite JJ’s vocal objections. But Bill got her karma. When the neck pointed at her, Yaz dared her to kiss Jack like she meant it — and made sure she knew it was punishment for her untimely interruption in the bedroom earlier. Jack, she was sure, must have felt he was being rewarded. 

Everybody kept daring JJ to drink; Yaz had to make her orgasm face — noises included (the captivating authenticity of which stunned the room into total silence for a moment); the group had a good laugh when they scrolled through Jack’s latest risqué messages.

Tipsy was a speck in the rearview mirror when JJ leaned forwards to spin the bottle and it landed squarely on Yaz. Going off the smug look on her face, Yaz was willing to bet she’d been waiting for this opportunity for a while.

“I dare you,” she drawled, squeezing Yaz’s shoulder, “to do a lap dance.” 

“‘Course,” said Yaz, relishing in how JJ’s smile fell when she returned her smug look with one of her own. “Anythin’ for you, babe.”

Unfortunately for JJ, she hadn’t taken the pains to specify _who_ Yaz was to give a lap dance to. So, Yaz made her mind up for herself. After turning off the overhead lights and shuffling through the playlist until she found a slow, sultry song, Yaz peeled off her flannel shirt and slung it in JJ’s direction. Left in a figure-hugging tank and short shorts, she sauntered with intent towards a well-pleased JJ — and then changed course at the last second. 

When she sank into Bill’s lap, Jack sniggered, JJ’s jaw dropped, and Bill didn’t even attempt to look sorry. She winked victoriously at JJ and put her hands on Yaz’s hips while she danced. 

“If you’re not careful, Jamie, you’re gonna end up sleeping on your lonesome tonight,” Jack piped up, laughing into his drink.

“Yaz,” sulked JJ, jutting out her bottom lip. 

“Oi, it’s your own fault for not being more specific, JJ,” argued Bill with her hands up. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”

“Give it a rest, Bill,” said Yaz, shoving her back against the sofa by her shoulders and swivelling her hips against her. 

Bill raised her brows. “Yes, ma’am.”

Yaz by no means gave Bill a dance anywhere near as full on as she would a customer or, indeed, JJ. It was a bit of fun, more than anything; she didn’t want to upset JJ too much — just remind her who was boss. So, after a bit of grinding and teasing and dangling her lips treacherously close to Bill’s mouth (all for JJ’s sake), they shared a friendly laugh at the end of the song and Yaz climbed out of her lap with a bump of fists. 

JJ was moping with her arms crossed on her corner of the sofa. She refused to acknowledge Yaz as she walked back over, even when she picked her shirt up off her knee and pulled it back on. 

“Babe,” smiled Yaz, tapping JJ’s knee, “look at me.”

“Nope.”

“Aw, JJ, it didn’t even turn me on, mate. Was like getting a lap dance from my weird uncle who’s got no teeth,” consoled Bill.

“Oi!” Yaz threw a pillow at Bill, which she narrowly dodged, and tilted her head at JJ. She put her hand on the top of the sofa behind her head and leaned in. Except, whenever she got close to her eye line, JJ averted her gaze further away like a wronged child. “Hmm. Well, I s’pose you don’t _have_ to look at me — but it might make it a bit difficult when I do this.”

Yaz dropped onto JJ’s lap, cupped her face, and lifted her head until JJ’s startled eyes could take in nothing except her. 

“Hi,” purred Yaz.

JJ licked her dry lips. “Hi.”

“Thought you didn’t wanna look at me?”

“I don’t.”

“Better close your eyes, then.”

JJ closed her eyes a split second before Yaz’s lips met hers. Yaz kissed her with abandon; with total disregard for their whistling, mocking audience and for the pillow Bill threw back at her. She could feel JJ’s petulance suffocating in the spirituous ardour of their heavy breaths and warring tongues. JJ’s skin was hot all over when she reached up to hold Yaz by her hips, and it burned off the bad temper like a scorching sun skims shallow puddles from the pavement. 

“Jesus, don’t the two of you ever come up for air?” wondered Jack.

“Say hi to Snapchat, Yaz!” teased Bill, her phone’s flashlight illuminating the room. “Think I’ve got your sister on here.”

“Don’t you dare,” warned Yaz, finally breaking away from JJ and affording Bill her most blistering glare until she lowered her phone and deleted the video with a shrug. JJ was still smiling, drunk and dopey and not even slightly embarrassed, when Yaz kissed the top of her head and climbed off her. She let JJ encircle her in her arms and hold her close as Bill reached out to give the bottle another spin. 

It landed on JJ. 

Thus far, JJ had gotten off pretty lightly. Only, now that everyone was thoroughly drunk and diablerie, the gloves were off. Nobody was safe. Yaz felt JJ tense against her at the delighted glint in Bill’s eyes.

Bill tapped her chin villainously. “All right, JJ — I dare you to share the dirtiest photo on your phone with the group.”

“Um, the dirtiest—?”

Yaz laughed. “You’ll be hard pressed, mate. The dirtiest pictures on her phone are of empty plots of land she’s developing on.”

“What? You don’t send dirty pictures to each other?”

Jack looked as if somebody had just confessed to murder. “You haven’t even got any of Yaz?”

“I just — I’ve never—”

“We don’t even sext,” revealed Yaz, plucking JJ’s scotch from her hand and stealing a sip. “She doesn’t know how.”

Bill’s jaw hit the floor and she looked between them both as if expecting them to confess to pulling her leg. “This is a crime! Sorry, nah, I can’t have this. New dare: JJ, go to the bathroom and send Yaz a saucy picture.” 

“You don’t have to do that, babe.”

“Actually, according to the sacred rules of dares, she very much does have to do that,” countered Jack. 

Yaz was on the verge of defending her further when, catching the whole room off guard, JJ sprang to her feet, yanked her scotch out of Yaz’s hands, and lurched towards the hallway. “I’m doin’ it,” she announced. 

“Are you sure?” frowned Yaz. “Doesn’t seem like the kinda thing you’d be into.”

JJ turned around once she got to the doorway. “Are you into it?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no, but—”

“Then, it’s settled.” With a final wink at Yaz, JJ disappeared into the hallway. 

Yaz shook her head at Bill and Jack. “You’re both such dicks.”

“Let’s see if you still think so when that text comes through,” said Bill. “Now, whose go is it?”

A couple of minutes later, Yaz’s phone buzzed with a text from JJ. The others were busy pouring out shots of tequila for the group, which Yaz had no intention of touching, and didn’t notice Yaz pulling out her phone and opening her messages. 

**[23:59] JJ:** _will you be mad if I don’t do it?_

 **[23:59] Yaz:** _course not. I’ll tell them you did it anyway_

 **[23:59] JJ:** _i reeeeally want to but i’ve never done it befofe_

 **[23:59] JJ:** _before_

 **[00:00] JJ:** _think i’m a bit dunk_

 **[00:00] Yaz:** _come back out babe it’s fine x_

 **[00:00] JJ:** _one min_

 **[00:00] Yaz:** _are you being sick?_

 **[00:01] Yaz:** _babe?_

 **[00:02] JJ:** _[image attached]_

Yaz didn’t, for a single second, expect JJ to go through with it. Naturally, she was beyond shocked when she opened her latest message to reveal a bathroom mirror selfie of JJ — naked from the waist up with her belt unbuckled and her trousers undone. Accompanied by alcohol-flushed cheeks and tousled hair, she was almost the picture of debauchment. 

Almost. 

Were it not for her ear-to-ear grin and the thumb she was holding up.

Muffling a laugh behind her fist just as JJ waltzed back into the room, Yaz looked up to find her looking well pleased with herself. She made her way to the sofa and plonked down next to her with a grin she was failing to mask.

“Did she do it?” asked Bill, still wincing through the burn of a shot she’d just knocked back. 

Yaz put her arm around JJ’s shoulders and JJ leaned into her. “She did it.” 

Jack and Bill cheered and Jack handed JJ a congratulatory shot, which Yaz promptly took out of her hands and poured into Bill’s drink while she wasn’t looking. JJ was toeing the line between drunk and wasted and she didn’t want to be stuck with babysitting duty. She had other ideas about how she wanted to spend her night. 

“Did y’like the picture?” JJ asked quietly, pulling a knee up to her chest. 

“Loved it, babe. Especially the thumbs up.”

JJ twitched her lips into a meek smile. “Didn’t really know what to do with my hands,” she confessed. 

“I could probably think of a few uses,” Yaz teased under her breath. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Maybe later y’can show me.”

Yaz arched a brow. JJ had a habit of getting bold when she was drunk. “Maybe I will. If you’re good.”

“What if I’m bad?” grinned JJ.

“If you’re bad,” Yaz whispered, pinching JJ’s thigh and prompting her cheeky grin to evanesce as quickly as it had appeared, “then you won’t get your reward for that picture.”

JJ didn’t get a chance to ask about the nature of the reward Yaz had in mind — though she looked like she sorely wanted to — before Jack and Bill got the bright idea to turn the living room into a karaoke bar. 

They pushed the table to one side and used the rug as their stage, cycling through a selection of eighties hits and using empty bottles and fire irons as microphones. They failed to drag Yaz into their performances, and were still in the process of trying to convince JJ to join in on a Whitney Houston number when Yaz excused herself to use the bathroom.

Instead of the bathroom, though, Yaz retreated to her bedroom and closed the door stealthily behind her. Once alone, she began to strip out of her clothes. Bill had been right about the wine — it did get her in a certain kind of mood. Plus, JJ had made a valiant effort at sending her a raunchy picture and she figured she owed it to her to return the favour — to reward her for good behaviour (even if the picture _was_ more precious than sexy). 

Down to nothing but a red, two piece lingerie set that JJ had bought for her, Yaz sat on the bed and faced the full length mirror on the wardrobe. She let one leg hang off the side of the bed and tucked her other foot beneath her thigh. Then, leaning back with her hand pressed flat on the mattress behind her and her lip pulled between her teeth, Yaz took the picture.

She was tipsy enough not to care about getting the perfect shot, and knew for a fact that JJ wouldn’t be picky in any state of mind. Yaz waited to send it until she was walking back into the living room. She sat down next to JJ at the exact moment as her phone buzzed in her pocket.

JJ picked her phone up and frowned. “Why’ve y’just sent me a mess—”

Yaz cleared her throat. “Not sure what you mean, babe.”

As anticipated, JJ’s poker face was abysmal. She’d made the grievous error of taking a sip of her whiskey as she swiped open Yaz’s message, which resulted in her practically inhaling half a measure and erupting into a choking fit. Yaz patted her back and remained the picture of innocence when Bill and Jack looked up at the commotion. 

“You good, JJ?” asked Bill, pausing her thumbs halfway through typing a message on Tinder.

JJ didn’t seem to hear her. Once she was done coughing, she stared at the picture with all the veneration of someone beholding a life-changing piece of art for the first time — as if she hadn’t seen Yaz’s body in much more exposed, compromising positions a thousand times before.

“She’s fine,” Yaz answered on her behalf.

Bill looked between them suspiciously. Her interest in the situation disintegrated with another incoming notification, and she blew her cheeks out at whatever had just come through. “Mate, these French birds are something else.” Another notification and Bill’s eyes went wide. “Um — I’ll — I’m gonna be right back.” She scrambled to her feet and made for the door.

“Don’t you want some help?” Jack joked, apparently deducing the reason for her sudden exit. “Angles? Props? Mise-en-scene?”

“Piss off, you perv!”

Jack chuckled and took the opportunity to commandeer Bill’s speaker. The first song he played was _Gold Digger_ , at which point he dramatically mimed the lyrics to Yaz from across the room and she smiled with faux-sweetness and gave him the finger. 

“Don’t be a prick, Jack,” said JJ, finally looking up from her phone long enough to clock on. 

“I’m joking!” claimed Jack. “She knows that, don’t you?” 

Yaz wasn’t sure he was. “It’s all right, JJ.” She looked right at Jack. “It’s my favourite song, actually. How’d you know?”

Jack pointed his glass at her. “Funny.” 

After draining his drink dry, Jack got up and went to get more booze from the kitchen, leaving Yaz and JJ alone in the living room. 

JJ sighed. “He’s just messin’ about. Don’t worry about him.”

“I don’t,” said Yaz. She smiled at JJ, not interested in dwelling on the subject. “How’d you like your reward, anyway?”

“Oh, lots.” JJ gave a vigorous nod of her head. She slipped her phone into her pocket carefully, as though the picture on it somehow made it infinitely more valuable. “Did I, um — were those the ones I bought?”

“Glad you noticed.”

“I always notice,” mumbled JJ. She combed her eyes over Yaz’s body with purpose, like if she focused hard enough then she might somehow be able to glimpse her lingerie through her clothes. “Every little thing about you.” 

“Always more where that came from, babe,” offered Yaz, resting her hand on JJ’s leg. “Only have to ask.” 

JJ covered Yaz’s hand with her own. “Might have to hold you to that one, y’know.” She tapped a slow rhythm against the back of Yaz’s wrist while she talked. “Need _somethin’_ to tide me over while you’re not around, don’t I?”

A sudden visual of JJ touching herself while she thought of Yaz and moaning her name while she came manifested behind Yaz’s eyes without warning. Her skin prickled; a rush of heat between her legs accompanied her goosebumps. She looked darkly at JJ and JJ looked back at her with an identical dearth of chastity. Before either of them could think to jump the other’s bones, Bill and Jack returned to the room. 

Bill had a go at Jack about changing the music and Jack ribbed Bill for her Tinder antics and Yaz was listening to none of it. She was already formulating a plan. 

She nudged JJ’s arm. “Pass me that blanket, babe,” she said, pointing to a wooly throw folded over the back of the sofa. “Bit cold in here.”

After JJ retrieved the blanket and draped it over the two of them, Yaz returned her hand to JJ’s leg. She let it linger innocuously for a few minutes, giving Jack and Bill the time to take another shot and re-enter an endless debate they’d been going back and forth on about whether or not Yaz and JJ were drunk enough yet for Bill to win the wager. Any input from the subjects of their debate was, it seemed, inessential. 

Once satisfied that the two of them were fully engrossed, Yaz surreptitiously began to slide her hand up the length of JJ’s leg. JJ stiffened, pupils darting briefly towards Yaz. When she reached the top of her leg, JJ’s throat bobbed harshly and she clenched her teeth. They each kept their eyes trained on Jack and Bill. It was easy enough to pull the wool over their eyes when they were so wasted, so Yaz kept going. 

Her hand crawled between JJ’s thighs and JJ pressed them together around Yaz’s fingers; her blanched face went unnoticed by all except Yaz. Blindly, she located JJ’s zipper and edged it down millimetre by millimetre to avoid being heard. 

JJ’s knuckles turned white around her glass when Yaz was finally able to work her fingers through the opening in her trousers. Fortunately, JJ had left her belt off when she’d come back from taking her scandalous bathroom selfie earlier, making it that much easier for Yaz to glide her hand across the snug aperture between her thighs. 

Bending a knee to tent the blanket and obscure their indecorous affairs, JJ faltered over her next breath when it happened to concur with Yaz pressing three fingers flat against her over her boxers. 

Yaz was able to maintain an admirable front, joining in with Bill and Jack’s conversation at intervals and laughing along with their jokes. JJ, on the other hand, pressed her mouth firmly shut and didn’t contribute anything except her silence. She squirmed when Yaz began to massage her fingers into her — so Yaz stopped. It wasn’t until JJ had adequately settled that she carried on. 

Not a handful of strokes later, Yaz was already able to feel JJ’s arousal through the cotton. She lay her head on JJ’s shoulder and heard her breathing pick up when she began to work tighter circles against her. 

JJ was obviously holding onto her composure by a thread. Yaz eyed the drink in her trembling hand and waited until JJ brought it up to her lips before making her move — her move being to slip her fingers abruptly past her boxers and alarm JJ so much she jumped in her seat and sent her drink sloshing down the front of her shirt. 

They both sprang apart.

“JJ!” hissed Yaz, feigning annoyance.

“Shit, sorry!” JJ set her drink down on the table and regarded her ruined, white-no-more shirt with a frustrated sigh. She glanced at Yaz’s clothes. “Did I get you?”

“Don’t think so,” said Yaz, because she’d anticipated — no, orchestrated — the incident, and ensured she’d be able to pull away in time. “Got it all down yourself, though. What’d you jump for?”

JJ squinted indignantly at Yaz, who remained the picture of cluelessness. 

“Looks like you’re gonna have to take it off,” sang Bill. She was lying upside down on the sofa with her head lolling over the side. “That’s a shame. Why don’t you give us a strip tease, JJ? Bet _you’d_ give my weird uncle a run for his money.”

“Sod off, Bill,” Yaz retorted. She put her hand on JJ’s back. “C’mon, let’s go get you cleaned up.” 

They were halfway towards the door when Jack called, “You know your flyer’s down, right?” with a knowing cackle — though whether he _actually_ knew anything was difficult to tell. Jack tended to possess that sort of infliction at all times.

Regardless, Yaz’s plan had panned out faultlessly. She guided JJ in the direction of the hallway right until the last second. Sparing a glance over her shoulder to ensure there were no eyes on them, she veered them off course and shoved JJ into the kitchen. Surprise coloured JJ’s face when Yaz backed her up against the wall right beside the archway, sealed her lips to her neck, and began to unbutton her ruined shirt. 

JJ thudded her head softly against the wall. “Thought we were gettin’ me cleaned up?” she whispered, glancing at the entrance nervously.

“That can wait.” 

“Yaz, did you — did you do that on purpose?” When Yaz only peeled JJ’s shirt off with a smirk, leaving her in a white undershirt and trousers, JJ breathed a laugh. “Guess my picture really got you worked up, eh?”

“Sure, babe,” indulged Yaz. They were both conversing in the quietest of whispers — Jack and Bill’s voices carried into the kitchen from just around the corner and reminded them of their proximity. She pressed her hands to the wall at either side of JJ’s head. “Now, d’you think you can be quiet for me? Hm?”

They could have gone to the bathroom for this; they could even have gone to their bedroom, or any one of the several available to them. Admittedly, there’d have been a lot more space and multiple walls between the two of them and the living room, but Yaz thought it’d be more fun this way. Forcing JJ to be quiet when she so loved to be loud beneath Yaz’s touch. 

“Absolutely,” JJ enthused. “I’m the king of quiet, me. Won’t hear a peep out of—”

Yaz pressed one of JJ’s hands to her own mouth to silence her. “Keep that there. Understand?”

JJ nodded, but Yaz didn’t relinquish her gaze until she was certain the sincerity to her demand sank in entirely. When she did, after a loaded moment, tear her eyes away, she didn’t do anything but build upon the anticipation she’d been accumulating within JJ all evening and all night. She breathed heavily against her neck and ran her hands up JJ’s sides in an unrushed, torturous manner. 

Something she’d picked up on about JJ fairly quickly was that, when she was made to endure long periods of suspense, she entered a state of hypervigilance. As such, she became even more susceptible to the slightest of touches. For instance, Yaz flicked her tongue briefly over her earlobe and JJ’s hand clamped tighter around her mouth. She brushed her thumb over the side of JJ’s breast and JJ writhed between Yaz and the wall. Yaz could do this all day. Sadly, there wasn’t time. 

JJ’s rigid anticipation capitulated to relief when Yaz finally attached her mouth to her throat and kneaded a breast through the thin layers of fabric separating their skin. She felt JJ’s nipple harden and pinched it between her fingers with just enough lenience to keep her from making a sound. JJ was doing well, so far. Yaz was impressed.

She brought her knee up between JJ’s thighs to part them and JJ wrapped an arm around Yaz’s back for balance. Yaz thought she’d for sure make a sound when she leaned all her weight into the knee against JJ’s crotch — but JJ was perfectly quiet. Unerringly disciplined.

Moving her wet kisses to the hollow of JJ’s throat, Yaz dropped her hand from JJ’s breast and jammed it into her trousers; straight past the waistband of her boxers. JJ coiled a leg around Yaz’s waist and Yaz held it in place. JJ’s eagerness could be forgiven. This was the third time that night they’d gotten so far, after all. Featherlight, Yaz ran her fingers along the length of JJ and JJ sighed against her palm. 

“Gonna be good and quiet for me, JJ?” Yaz breathed into her ear. “Yeah? Don’t want the others hearing, do we?”

JJ shook her head. 

“Good girl. You ready?”

The wanting plea in JJ’s eyes spoke volumes while her mouth remained firmly closed. They looked at one another over JJ’s hand — the only thing separating their mouths — and Yaz pushed a finger inside her. 

JJ’s entire face screwed up with the effort it took not to make a sound. That said, the threat of getting caught must have been working for her because she was soaked; silken to the touch. 

Yaz glided in slowly, easing JJ into it to avoid eliciting any sudden noises. She pressed her cheek to JJ’s as she began to gain momentum, pinning her flat to the wall with the weight of her body to keep her from slamming against the tile. Yaz was unable to keep from sighing into JJ’s ear at the way she felt around her plunging fingers — knowing, each time she curled them, it would be killing JJ not to make a sound.

“You feel so good, JJ,” Yaz grunted quietly. “Fuck, I love how easily you get worked up. You’re always so wet for me, aren’t you? You’re such a good girl.”

A premature acclamation. 

JJ whined. 

Muted though it was by both her hand and her own restraint, Yaz still brought her fleet fingers to a swift stop and they both stood and listened. Mercifully, the thumping bass of a club banger masked JJ’s slip up and preserved their cover. Yaz shot her a trenchant glare, but it faded fast; she’d never seen someone so effectively convey how sorry they were without the use of words or actions. 

JJ’s eyes were expressive things. Yaz might have been drunk or it might have been that JJ commanded the swirling, russet-gold depths of her irises as though with a fine brush to watercolour. 

Even as she watched, Yaz could make out the portrait shifting and reshifting around the dilation of her pupils — every brushstroke intentional, like one of those paintings that revealed a greater mastery to every meticulous detail the longer one studied it. For a moment, Yaz was arrested by such vibrant depths; lost in sunlit woodlands or submerged in a green sea. An artist’s creation, sure, but a convincing one.

Only when JJ started to lower her hand as if to speak did Yaz recover her sense. Blaming her lapse in presence on the alcohol, Yaz sought out JJ’s leaping pulse with her tongue and carried on. She thrusted her arm quicker and quicker and the heartbeat at the tip of her tongue harmonised with her every jerky movement. 

Bill and Jack erupted into laughter in the next room. JJ’s head snapped towards the direction of the archway, but Yaz didn’t slow. If anything, she worked faster. Were Bill to walk in on them now, she’d never live it down. 

Yaz’s palm struck the pearl of JJ’s pleasure with every slam into her. Though she knew it wasn’t quite enough to drive her to the edge, she relished in every quiver of JJ’s muscles; in every thick, staggered breath and tremble of her brows. 

“Kiss me, Jamie,” panted Yaz.

JJ’s eyelids fluttered open. She moved the hand at her mouth to the back of Yaz’s neck and pulled her in. They kissed frenziedly — noses knocking together, tongues darting erratically; JJ breathing heavily into Yaz’s mouth. 

Yaz grunted against her lips with the strain it took to hold JJ up while she fucked her, helped none by JJ’s fingers digging crescent moons into her neck and inadvertently catching her hair. 

In hindsight, Yaz should have provided JJ with a little warning before she honed in on the tender kernel of oversensitive nerves that had been pulsing for her attention for so long. She didn’t. As a result, the moment she applied a firmer pressure to it, JJ released a high-pitched whimper. They both froze. JJ may have gotten away with it, had it not coincided with a break in the music between songs. 

“You hear that?” they heard Bill ask. 

“Hear what?” said Jack.

“Thought I heard something in the kitchen. A squeak.”

“Like a mouse?”

“Aw, I bloody hope not. I ain’t sharing a gaff with no mice. Thought this place was supposed to be bougie?”

“I’ll check it out.”

Picking up JJ’s discarded shirt, Yaz proceeded to drag her away from the wall and into the adjoining laundry room. She’d only just closed the door when they heard entreating footsteps. Yaz had JJ pinned to the door with a hand over her mouth. They stared at one another as the footsteps drew nearer and nearer and Yaz’s pulse reached a thrilling crescendo in her ears. 

Whether it was adrenaline or the terrified look on JJ’s face that made her do it, Yaz couldn’t be sure, but when Jack came to a standstill on the other side of the door, Yaz dove her hand between their hips and groped JJ over her trousers. 

JJ raised her eyes to the ceiling and her hot breaths against Yaz’s palm picked up. Yaz couldn’t resist a diabolical smirk. Regardless, JJ managed to keep quiet, and a couple of seconds later they heard Jack’s footsteps recede and the rattle of the fridge door opening.

“No mice, but I found some more beer!” he shouted. 

Following an indistinct, muffled cheer from Bill and the sound of glass bottles clinking, they heard Jack retreat into the living room. Yaz waited until the music started back up to peel her palm from JJ’s clammy lips. 

JJ’s gaze hitched over the hand still cupping her and she looked at Yaz with no small amount of apprehension. “Sorry, Yaz. I really didn’t mean to. I just — fuck, I’m sorry.” And there she went again with those wide eyes and their silent eloquence. 

Typically, this would be where Yaz punished her; where she made her beg for forgiveness and beg for release and beg for the sake of begging. Instead, without planning on it, Yaz kissed JJ. Tenderly. It lacked the sloppy, incontinent aspect of most of their previous kisses that day and Yaz could all but taste JJ’s confusion on her skittish tongue, which probed tentatively as if she was expecting Yaz to bare her fangs at any moment. 

Instead, Yaz hoisted JJ’s leg back up and dived her hand beneath the waistband of her boxers. 

“Wait,” gasped JJ, pulling away from the kiss, “you’re not angry?”

“Do you want me to be angry, JJ?” asked Yaz. Her fingers resumed their rhythm inside JJ and Yaz tapped their foreheads together, that she might closely observe every glorious quirk of JJ’s face; cause and instant effect.

JJ shook her head — as resolutely as she could manage with Yaz’s face pressed up against her own. “No.”

“Then, I’m not angry.”

Through the contortions inflicted by pleasure, JJ watched Yaz and Yaz watched her. Yaz could see JJ attempting to anatomise the situation; figure out what it meant. It didn’t mean anything, in Yaz’s mind, and she didn’t want JJ looking at her like that while she screwed her. She wanted her eyes rolling to the back of her head and her jaw hanging open and her knees turning weak.

So, she located the exact button she knew to press when she wanted JJ to stop thinking so hard and surrender to the ruination Yaz intended to wreak. 

The instant she did, JJ’s head thudded against the door and she buried her fingernails into Yaz’s shoulders with a sharp intake of breath. Yaz scraped her teeth and tongue across JJ’s throat, concentrating on centering the whorls she impressed upon the shuddering, slippery heat of her. At some point, JJ forgot to breathe. Her hold on Yaz tightened, her veins bulged, her grunts became more and more strained. Yaz looked up to find her eyes closed and her mouth open — but nothing was coming out. 

“Breathe, babe.” 

On command, JJ choked back a few unsteady breaths. She swore and knitted her eyebrows together, loosening her death grip on Yaz’s shoulders — and Yaz just drunkenly gazed at her the whole time. 

“I’m gonna come, Yaz,” announced JJ. “ _Fuck_ — fuck, I’m gonna come.” 

And Yaz didn’t deny her. Not like she normally would. Because right then, in such an intoxicated state, it was easy for her to admit that she loved the way JJ looked when she came. It was easy to admit that making her wait was fun when she had the patience for it, but only because it made it that much sweeter for both of them when JJ was finally allowed to unravel. 

“Then come, Jamie. Be a good girl and come for me,” allowed Yaz. “Quietly.”

Inexorable in her administrations of dexterous, determined pressure, Yaz allowed JJ to pull her in by her face while she ascended higher and higher. Their noses nestled side by side and their open mouths touched lightly with every thrust. JJ’s hands viced Yaz’s head and she permitted it, because not a second later JJ’s stomach tensed, her eyes screwed shut beneath slanting brows, and she sighed.

It was a barely there sound; something that felt disproportionate to the obviously towering heights of her climax. But it lasted a while. It poured out of JJ’s mouth it one long stream and climbed right down Yaz’s throat. 

JJ’s face, as always, was a picture.

Yaz caught (but didn’t stop) herself committing every detail of it to memory. Every crease around the eyes, every quiver of her lips; her perfect teeth bared and the strands of hair stuck to her face and mouth with sweat. And Yaz thought, _fuck. She’s stunning._

It caught her off guard, that thought, because it was worlds apart from her usual acknowledgements of JJ’s attractiveness, in that it felt more like veneration, like awe; like adoration. 

Like a bomb. 

In the aftermath of the explosion, only JJ’s hard breathing and the dull thud of music through the walls could be heard. 

Yaz swallowed tightly and pulled her hand away, She glanced around for something to wipe her fingers on and found a towel on top of one of the washing machines. After cleaning her hand and tossing the towel into the hamper, she ventured to face JJ once more. 

“Okay?” she checked, wondering absently why she had the sudden urge to reach out and touch JJ’s face and why, more precisely, she was so hellbent on resisting that urge. 

JJ grinned hazily. “Brilliant.” She drew Yaz in by her hips as if to return the favour. 

“Later, babe,” said Yaz, prising JJ’s hands away and squeezing them gently before letting them drop.

“Later?” frowned JJ. “Thought you’d been waitin’ all week?”

Yaz lifted a shoulder. “I can wait a bit longer, then.” She peeled a few strands of hair out of JJ’s face and smiled at her in an effort to assuage her scepticism of Yaz’s whiplash-inducing loss of fervor. “C’mon, Bill and Jack’ll be wondering.” 

They got JJ out of her bedraggled suit and into a pair of sweats and an old T-shirt and returned to the living room, where they were welcomed by a series of remarks Yaz could probably have predicted to the word.

“You look a bit flustered, mate. Do a few laps on your way back?”

“Those hallways must be a lot longer than I remember.”

“Had to wash yourself a clean shirt, did you?”

Yaz drowned it all out. She couldn’t stop staring at JJ — couldn’t stop herself from noticing the way she raked a hand through her hair or beamed with her whole face or fidgeted with the drawstrings on her sweats when she occasionally glanced over at Yaz with a timid smile only to find her already watching her. 

At some point, they moved onto a game of never have I ever — because, it seemed, they all regressed to their teen years when they had a few drinks in them. Bill used the opportunity to expose Yaz completely. 

“Never have I ever boned in a cinema.”

Yaz drank. 

JJ pulled a face at the glass in Yaz’s hands like it had just personally offended her. “You had sex in a cinema?”

“Wasn’t proper sex. Just a bit of a fumble.”

But then, when it was Bill’s turn again, “Never have I ever boned in a supermarket storage room.”

Gritting her teeth, Yaz drank again. JJ gave her another look and she rolled her eyes. “Look, I had a part time job at Tesco when I were eighteen and my manager were pretty fit. Sue me.”

“Never have I ever boned in the back of a—”

“Bloody hell, Bill, are you tryna give me alcohol poisoning?” snapped Yaz. “Pick on someone else.” She eyed JJ, who’d gone rather quiet since Bill’s public unveiling of Yaz’s more audacious encounters. She couldn’t fathom why she even cared what JJ thought about her past; she wasn’t ashamed of it. She didn’t want to give anyone the power to make her feel ashamed of anything. 

And yet. 

“I dunno anyone else’s dirty little secrets, though, do I?” laughed Bill. 

“Fine. My turn,” said Yaz, setting her drink harshly down on the coffee table. “Never have I ever used a string of affairs, tattoos, and chronic binge drinking to distract myself and everybody else from how deeply dissatisfied I am with my own life.”

Bill’s face fell. 

“Yikes,” grimaced Jack. “Claws away, ladies. That sofa’s premium leather.”

“Yaz?” Like everybody else, JJ’s face was set with consternation at Yaz’s outburst. 

Yaz deflated. “Sorry, Bill,” she muttered. “Think I’ve just had a bit too much to drink, mate.”

But Bill just shrugged, and Yaz could see that she’d offended her. She didn’t even know what had gotten into her; she certainly didn’t know if there was any truth to what she’d said. Bill was her best friend, and she’d never think ill of her for the choices she made concerning her own life. 

Except Yaz was drunk and she'd been feeling uncharacteristically humiliated and all she could think to do in the moment was lash out. And now she felt like shit. Both JJ and Bill looked disappointed and upset. She didn’t know what to do about either.

Not long later, JJ went out to get some air on the balcony. Yaz managed to refrain from following her for the whole of five minutes before giving up. She lifted herself from the sofa and made to cross the room. Right before she reached the doors, however, Bill appeared in front of her and blocked her path. 

“Oi,” she said, reaching past Yaz to turn the speaker on the mantel up and give them a little privacy away from prying ears — namely, Jack’s. “What was all that about?”

“Honestly, I don’t even know,” admitted Yaz with a sorry shake of her head. “I’m sorry, Bill. You know you’re my best mate. I didn’t mean any of that.”

Bill folded her arms. “Yeah? Could’ve fooled me.”

“It’s just...” Yaz ground her jaw. “All that shit you were saying about my past—”

“What? About your hookups?” Baffled, Bill threw her hands up. “Mate, it’s a bit of banter! It never usually bothers you.”

Yaz didn’t think to reign her eyes in before they strayed, revelatory, towards JJ. Bill followed her gaze.

“Why do you care what JJ…” Bill’s eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. She grabbed Yaz by her shoulders. “Oh, mate, please don’t tell me you’re not falling for your sugar.”

“I’m not!” denied Yaz, swatting Bill’s hands away. “I definitely am not.”

“But?”

“But nothing. I just — you know what she’s like. Stuff like that makes her feel awkward, and we’re basically her guests, so…” Yaz shrugged. “I just don’t wanna rub my past in her face when she’s doing all this for us. That’s all.”

“So you bit my head off ‘cos you wanna protect JJ’s feelings?” Bill’s doubt was tangible. “And why do you care so much about her feelings?”

Yaz scoffed. “Why does everyone seem to think I’m so heartless? I _like_ her! She’s nice, she’s kind to me. I’m allowed to not wanna make her feel uncomfortable without it meaning I’ve suddenly fallen for her.”

Bill pressed her palm to Yaz’s forehead; face pervaded with sham concern. 

“Bill, what on earth—”

“No fever,” she murmured. “Shit, Yaz. It must be love.”

Yaz lunged for Bill and she all but sprang over the coffee table with a snigger, picking up the first valuable thing she could find to deter Yaz from coming after her. Though Bill was way off base, Yaz was relieved that they’d at least managed to patch things up. One down, one to go. She set her sights on JJ. 

“That’s right, go get your woman!” Bill called over the music.

Yaz elected to ignore Bill as she stepped out onto the narrow balcony and closed the door behind her. JJ was leaning over the iron balustrade with her hands steepled, gazing out at the sleeping city and the ever-watchful moon presiding over it. It was late — or early, depending on one’s perspective — and yet the air was warm and still. 

Yaz glanced out at the far distance, the very same spot JJ was staring out at, like in doing so she might follow the rail of her thoughts, track by track, all the way to their destination and discern exactly where she’d disappeared to up there.

“Hey, babe,” said Yaz, when reading her mind revealed itself to be a futile task.

JJ started; Yaz had derailed her train. She looked over her shoulder at Yaz with a smile that didn’t quite reach. “Hiya, Yaz.”

“Everything okay?”

“Never better! Just fancied a bit of air,” claimed JJ, taking a seat on one of the two bistro chairs divided by a metal table and gesturing for Yaz to take the one opposite. “Nice out, eh?”

Yaz sat down and tilted her head at JJ. “You know, you always end up ‘needing a bit of air’ whenever something’s bothering you,” Yaz pointed out, making air quotations with her fingers to make plain the accusation between the lines. 

“Do I? Hm.”

“If it’s about what Bill said during that stupid game…” Yaz made a frustrated sound and crossed her arms atop the table. “Look, I’m not gonna sit here and apologise for stuff I did before I even met you. I wouldn’t apologise for it if it was stuff I did last week. You should know me well enough by now to know that—”

“Am I boring?” interrupted JJ. 

Yaz’s mouth hung open around the middle of her sentence for a beat before she frowned and sat up straighter. “Why d’you ask?”

JJ picked at her cuticles under the table. “All those things you talked about… not just you, even, but the lot of you — you’ve all done so many wild, spontaneous things.” JJ stopped picking at her fingers when Yaz scooted her chair closer and clasped one of her hands in her own. Instead, she flexed the muscles in her cheek and stared at her feet. “And then there’s me, who doesn’t even send dirty pictures or — or sext. I must bore you, mustn't I?”

If Yaz had come out here on the defensive, all her fight yielded to empathy in a heartbeat. She was so used to people looking down on her that JJ’s persistent failure to judge her was forever throwing her for a loop. Yaz had to remind herself that she and JJ didn’t always exist on the same wavelength. Where she saw something people could use against her, JJ saw all the ways she believed she’d failed. She didn’t want to dwell too much on what that said about either of them. 

“Babe, I promise you, shagging in a cinema and a supermarket store room is exactly as grim as it sounds,” guaranteed Yaz, swiping her thumb across the peaks of JJ’s knuckles. 

“Yeah, but, me and you — we’ve never done anythin’ like that,” said JJ. “Y’know, like, adventurous.”

“We don’t have to have sex in public for it to be adventurous, JJ,” Yaz assured her. She didn’t look convinced, so Yaz vacated her chair and used JJ’s lap as a seat instead, wrapping her arms around her neck and ducking her head until JJ was forced to level with her. “Babe, I don’t say this lightly, but you’re one of the best I’ve ever had. You’ve got nothing to worry about in that department, believe me.” 

“One of the…” JJ leaned back and searched Yaz. “Really?”

“Really.”

Smug satisfaction plucked at the corners of JJ’s mouth and she wound her arms around Yaz’s waist boldly. “Sure I’m not _the_ best?”

“Don’t push it,” warned Yaz, but she was smiling right alongside JJ. She stroked the back of her hair. “Seriously, JJ, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” 

“Who said I’m not comfortable with it?”

“You blush at the word bone,” reasoned Yaz. Then, when it looked like JJ was about to defend herself, she said, “It’s okay. I don’t mind. Just, don’t try and force something you’re not into for my sake, yeah? You’re not boring. In any sense of the word.”

Reluctantly, JJ nodded. 

Yaz held her in her sights. She had the moon and the erratic, Eiffel tower spotlights in her eyes and the mellow glow of lamplight from inside their apartment soaked half her profile in warm orange. That same, alarming thought she’d had earlier in the laundry room echoed still in the back of her head — her own voice calling out to her from the depths of a cave as yet explored. This time, she didn’t run away from it. She didn’t run towards it, either.

Rather, Yaz kissed JJ, and she didn’t think about it. 

Kisses were easy to get lost in and easy to climb back out of, but if she were to venture down that unfamiliar cave only for it to collapse on top of her, then there was no guarantee she’d be able to dig her way back out of the rubble. Or that she’d even survive the blow.

“Now,” began Yaz, “how about we sod the gruesome twosome and go to bed?”

“Do I get to…” JJ slid her hand across Yaz’s thigh. 

“I were kinda counting on it, babe.” Yaz got to her feet and pulled JJ out of her chair by her hand — and JJ didn’t let go, giving a small tug to stop Yaz when she started for the door. Yaz turned. She looked between their married hands and the profundity chiselled into every line on JJ’s face and fretted that JJ was about to say something to cave the roof in over their heads. After a deal of deliberation, she worked up the nerve to ask, “What is it?”

But JJ just sighed gladly and said, “I’m really happy I met you, Yasmin.”

It was a sentiment JJ had put to her many a time before; a string of words that usually went in one ear and out the other. Tonight, for some reason, they solidified, speared her chest; turned her heart slowly on its head as if on a spit over a naked flame. 

And maybe the alcohol fuelled the flames and maybe she used her impulse control for kindling because, before Yaz could think to toss her tongue to the fire, she heard herself say, “I’m happy I met you, too, Jamie.” 

And she heard herself mean it. 

* * *

The sun was still low in the sky and the city had only just begun to wake from slumber when Yaz stirred the next morning with a mouth dry as cotton and a dissonant drumbeat behind her skull. Groaning, she rolled out of bed and grabbed the first shirt she found — one of JJ’s white button ups. Pulling it on over her underwear, she left JJ quietly snoozing and headed for the kitchen. 

Standing over the sink with a glass under the running faucet, Yaz let her mind drift as she stared out through the open window; scarcely even processing the overflowing water streaming down her hand and soaking the sleeve of JJ’s shirt. 

At the sound of incoming footsteps, she blinked back to her body and turned the tap off. When she turned, a stranger entered the kitchen. A woman. Going off her age, the heels in her hand, and the marks on her throat, there wasn’t a doubt in Yaz’s mind that this was one of Bill’s conquests.

The woman froze awkwardly upon realising Yaz was there, and Yaz looked her up and down and sipped her water. 

“Good night, I take it?” asked Yaz.

The woman didn’t get a word in before Bill’s door burst open and her unmistakably heavy footfall padded towards the kitchen. “Wait up, babe!” she called, before coming into view with a blanket wrapped around herself and a hot pink thong in her hands. She handed the latter to the woman with a wink. “Nice one. See ya, then.”

Taking her cue, Bill’s fling headed for the front door. 

Bill shot yaz a shit-eating grin. “Guess who made it Eiffel shower last night?”

Yaz opened her mouth — and then promptly closed it when a second woman, looking even more rough than the last, emerged from Bill’s room and walked past the pair of them with a polite smile and a shy wave. Yaz watched her leave in stunned silence, gaze lingering on the suspiciously familiar shirt she was wearing until the door closed in her wake.

“Twice!” exclaimed Bill with a laugh. “Well, technically, it was probably closer to, like, half a dozen times.” 

“Was she wearing my shirt?” asked Yaz. “The one I loaned you?”

“Uh…” Bill scratched her chin with the corner of the blanket. “Hers kinda got… torn.”

Yaz slammed her glass on the counter and lunged for Bill, who yelped and bolted in the direction of her room. Yaz chased her to her bedroom, at which point Bill tried to shut the door in her face and they both wrestled with it while Bill laughed like a maniac.

“You owe me a shirt, you dick!”

“Get your sugar mummy to buy you one! Or ten!”

“Bill!”

“I’m naked under this blanket, Yaz!” she shouted. “Sure you’re ready to see that? You’re risking falling madly in love with me, here, mate!”

Jack appeared at the end of the hallway with a toothbrush in his mouth. “Did somebody say naked?” he said around the bristles. “And am I still super drunk or did two models just walk past?”

Yaz jumped away from the door and let it slam closed under Bill’s weight. Once she did, Bill opened it back up a crack and flashed her teeth. “Are you mad at me?” she pouted. “Want me to grovel? Might not be as good at it as JJ, but I’ll give it my best.”

Jack barked a laugh. “Now, this, I gotta see.”

Headache intensified and patience thoroughly tested, Yaz heaved a sigh. “It’s too bloody early for this.”

She stalked back to her room — Bill mock-grovelling in her wake; begging for forgiveness while Jack egged her on — and climbed right back under the sheets with every intention of procuring an extra half hour of sleep. 

The very moment Yaz got under the covers, a still sleeping JJ sensed her arrival and snuggled unconsciously against her. She buried her face in Yaz’s neck and draped an arm across her stomach with a subdued hum. Yaz stiffened only initially.

Because nobody else was around to see it except herself and because JJ was out like a light and would be none the wiser, Yaz relaxed into JJ’s koala-hug. She pressed a delicate kiss to the crown of her head and ran her hand through her silky hair. The way she saw it, if there were no witnesses, then there was no crime. 

Which is why her blood ran cold when JJ yawned a lazy, “Mm, ‘s’nice,” in a voice that might as well have been a siren and hugged Yaz just a little bit tighter with arms that might as well have been handcuffs.

Witnesses or no, Yaz should never have taken off her mask.


	5. remember this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok this chapter was initially supposed to be part of a longer one but my plan alone ended up being a 10k monster which i then had 2 wrangle and saw in half and fix up with some other patchwork limbs to fill it out so enjoy this frankenstein of a chap i guess. also this means that the next one will also be in JJ's perspective oopsie

“Yaz? Yaz, I think this were a mistake. Is it too late to get off?”

“Babe, this were your idea.”

“Yeah, and it were a bad one.”

When JJ had bought the four of them tickets to Disneyland, she admittedly hadn’t been thinking of the fast rides or the terrified screams like a constant, discordant melody in the air or the black maw of the tunnel presently waiting to swallow them whole. All JJ had been thinking about was candy floss and colourful castles and spending the whole day with Yaz.

It was only when they arrived at the park that she remembered that theme parks, as a general rule, were full of high-speed, gut-churning metal death machines and that, of course, Yaz would be all about them — and that she’d be unable to articulate her debilitating fear of rollercoasters when Yaz was tugging her towards one with an excited smile on her face that she’d do anything not to dissuade. She wanted to impress Yaz. Her plan had been going swimmingly, really. Until now. 

On the platform beside them, the attendant gave the thumbs up to whoever was manning the booth. Why were they at the front? Surely, the odds of something terrible happening were increased a thousandfold in the font carriage. They’d take the brunt of the force if they were to suddenly rocket off the tracks into a certain, grizzly demise. And if there was a head-on collision? No, this just wouldn’t do.

Except then their car was creeping forwards. Into the mouth of the tunnel. Into oblivion — and possibly never back out.

“Tell them to stop,” urged JJ. Her skin was desaturated of all colour and she white-knuckled the lap bar as if for life.

“Too late, buddy,” Jack announced from behind. “We’re off!”

Bill tutted from beside him. “Yaz, why don’t you hold her hand? Look at her, she’s shaking.”

JJ glanced sideways at Yaz. In truth, Yaz had been a little cool with her all morning — ever since JJ woke up in her arms with her fingers combing gently through her hair. JJ couldn’t be sure if it was just the residue of her hangover or if she was trying to make a point. Were she a betting woman, she’d put money on the latter. 

Nonetheless, as they began their crawling ascent up the tunnel and JJ began to swear repeatedly under her breath, Yaz peeled JJ’s fingers from the bar and wove her own between them. 

“Thanks, Yaz.”

Yaz gave a tight-lipped smile. 

“Does anyone know the odds of dying on a rollercoaster? I didn’t think to look it up,” worried JJ. The car rattled up the tracks past a gap in the tunnel, allowing them a wider view of the park and the cloudy blue sky and, more pressingly, how far off the ground they were. “Christ, why didn’t I look it up?”

“One in seven-hundred-and-fifty million,” said Yaz.

JJ squinted at her. “That doesn’t sound right.”

Not that it mattered, either way. They’d reached the summit of the incline and were hovering over a sudden plunge into an ostensibly endless void. Just… waiting. JJ’s breath caught in her throat. 

“Oi, look at me.” Yaz squeezed JJ’s hand until she turned her head. “You’ll be fine, JJ. Promise.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Yaz, but there’s no way you can possibly — _fuck_!”

JJ’s stomach crammed itself into her throat when the coaster suddenly tipped forwards and shot like a bullet into the abyss. Strobe lights and lasers and explosive audio effects bombarded her senses, as did the cacophony of real screams that followed. Some of them, her own. Pinned to her seat, JJ screwed her eyes shut.

She tried to focus solely on Yaz’s hand as they sped through loops and went upside down and backwards and god only knew what other directions; a kaleidoscope of bright lights flashing behind her eyes the whole time. She pretended none of it was there and focused on Yaz’s impossibly smooth palm. On the solid bones of her knuckles. On fingers that slotted perfectly between her own like puzzle pieces cut from the same board. JJ must have been hurting Yaz, and yet she couldn’t loosen her grip. 

She tried to. 

Kind of. 

But then they were looping again, and there were more shrill screams, and her hair was flying in her face and getting in her mouth, and all of this only served to cement her grip. JJ wouldn’t have been surprised if their hands were permanently melded together at the end of this. Nor would she have minded. Yaz’s hand in her own, she was positive, was the only thing keeping her from regurgitating her breakfast; the only thing keeping her heart from giving out under the stress of her abject horror.

JJ couldn’t say how long passed before she heard Yaz’s voice in her ear.

“Open your eyes, babe.”

Trusting Yaz, JJ dared to peel first one and then both of her eyelids open. They were pulling back into the platform. The natural light pouring in through the windows was harsh on the eyes and so very welcome. Antisily, JJ watched the attendant and silently willed him to release her first. She could do with putting a million miles between herself and those restraints.

“Well, that was a bit shit,” grumbled Bill.

“What did you expect?” posed Jack. “Pretty sure there’s a toddler on the back of this thing.”

“That weren’t so bad, right?” mused Yaz, running her thumb over JJ’s. Aside from a little colour in her cheeks and a strand or two that had come loose from her French plait, Yaz didn’t look at all as if she’d just been pinballed through a petrifying maze of darkness and disorientation. 

The same couldn’t be said for JJ, whose hair was sticking out in all directions and whose skin was the same colour as the whites of her eyes. “Please don’t make me do that again.” 

Yaz gave a reassuring smile. “I won’t.”

JJ peeled her fingers out of Yaz’s as the attendant approached, grimacing when she saw the white impressions she left behind on her skin. “Sorry ‘bout that. I tried to let you go.” 

“Didn’t try very hard, did you?” joked Yaz, flexing her hand as she no doubt tried to return the feeling to her fingers following the prolonged loss of circulation they’d endured. 

“No,” agreed JJ. “S’pose I didn’t.” 

* * *

Disneyland was a zoo of shrieking, sticky children and exhausted parents and gaggles of keen tourists every which way. Bill and Jack insisted on trying out a few more high octane rides. JJ was vehemently averse to this, so she and Yaz opted to part ways with them for a while. 

They ambled along the pink cobbled streets of the park, flanked by lush topiaries and pastel coloured buildings evocative of some kind of fantastical, imagined past era. The blue turrets of the _Sleeping Beauty_ castle loomed in the distance. Occasionally, they passed actors dressed up in full _Disney_ garb — princes and princesses and cartoon characters wearing suits they must have been melting in. 

JJ was in the midst of covertly looking up the odds of dying in a roller coaster accident, when the search results made her stop in her tracks. “You were right,” she muttered.

“What?” Yaz turned and lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head.

“The odds of dyin’ on a roller coaster,” elaborated JJ. She squinted at Yaz. “One in seven-hundred-and-fifty million. How’d you know?”

“I looked it up. How else?”

“For me?”

“No.”

JJ grinned. “Yeah, it was.”

“Whatever. Don’t go on about it,” mumbled Yaz, but as they continued along the street, JJ couldn’t help but beam. “How come you even brought us here if you don’t like rides? And please don’t say it’s ‘cause of the architecture.”

“No. I dunno.” JJ fanned herself with the collar of her polo shirt. Yaz had had the right idea to wear just denim shorts and an old band tee, but JJ was fast regretting her decision to wear trousers. The longer the day bore on, the hotter the sun burned. “I weren’t really thinkin’ about the rides. I just — I’ve never been to a theme park before. Thought it could be fun.”

“You’ve _never_ been to a theme park?” Yaz frowned at her. “Not even with your family?”

“Um, no.”

“That’s mad. Although, saying that, last time I went to a theme park I were about fourteen,” recalled Yaz. They’d come to a brief stop atop a short wall backed by a rose bush, where they sat and watched the carousel turn in the distance. This was the only shaded area they’d passed in a while. “Went with my family to Alton Towers. God, my mum absolutely hated it. Me and Sonya ended up…” Yaz let herself trail off; her nostalgia-sweet smile faded. 

JJ nudged Yaz’s knee with her own. “Do they know where you are? Your family?”

“Think my sister keeps tabs on me on Instagram and that,” shrugged Yaz, absently picking at the frayed hem of her shorts. “Haven’t told ‘em myself, though.”

“Maybe you should give ‘em a call,” suggested JJ softly. The last time she’d asked questions about Yaz’s family, she’d almost had her head bitten off. She didn’t want to make that mistake again. “Just to let ‘em know you’re all right, y’know?”

“Yeah, and say what? ‘Hey, everyone, how’s it going? I’m living it up in Paris with my sugar mummy right now — hope things are good in the real world!’” Yaz scoffed. “Can see that one going down a treat, can’t you?”

“Well, y’don’t have to say I’m your — your sugar mummy,” muttered JJ, ignoring the excess of heat prickling her cheeks at the phrase.

“Sugar daddy, then?” quipped Yaz. She chuckled when JJ huffed her disapproval. “What else would I call you, babe?”

“Friend?” Was that such a stretch? Yaz had admitted to caring about her, after all, and did that not make a friend? JJ thought so. She hoped so, at any rate. Candidly, she hoped for a lot more than that, but where Yaz was concerned she was willing to take what she could get. 

“JJ…” Yaz pushed herself off the wall with a sigh. 

“Are we not friends?”

Yaz stared at the buttons on JJ’s polo with a crease between her brows, like there was something in JJ’s eyes she couldn’t face head on. “I don’t know.”

JJ slid off the wall, and was about to address the point further when a flash of green in the near distance caught her attention. Her jaw fell open and she grabbed Yaz’s shoulder, pointing eagerly towards that which had so thoroughly derailed her attention. 

“Yaz, look! It’s Peter Pan!”

Prancing before a thin crowd, mostly consisting of young children, was a young man in a green tunic and tights with a feathered cap atop his red hair. Yaz followed JJ’s finger with a bemused laugh. 

“You like Peter Pan?”

“I _love_ Peter Pan! It were my favourite movie when I were younger. Still is,” divulged JJ without a lick of embarrassment. “Could sit and watch it a thousand times back to back. Always wanted to run away and be one of the Lost Boys. Even had a little onesie and everythin’.”

“Yeah?” grinned Yaz. “Which one?”

“The fox!” said JJ, watching with a farway twinkle in her eyes as Peter Pan high fived a young boy. “Were kinda hard to get one in my size, since they tend to be geared more towards younger kids.”

“Wait, how old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

Yaz pressed her hands together as if in prayer and held them against her endeared smile. “I don’t even know where to start with that,” she confessed. “D’you want a picture with him?”

“Oh, uh, I dunno.” Suddenly nervous, JJ cleared her throat. “Y’know what they say about meetin’ your heroes. It’s just a lad in costume, really.”

“Oh, c’mon, look at you,” implored Yaz. “You’ve got stars in your eyes.”

JJ offered an arch smile. “Those aren’t for him.”

“No?”

With a small shake of her head, JJ wrapped her arms around Yaz’s back. “The stars in my eyes burn only for you, Yasmin.” 

Despite Yaz’s eyeroll, she allowed JJ the luxury of a peck on the lips. And then another. And then a third, deeper, sweeter kiss which left JJ’s lips sticky with watermelon lip gloss. She licked her lips and flashed her teeth in a complacent smile. 

“You think you’re so smooth,” said Yaz, pushing gently out of JJ’s arms. 

Affronted, JJ scrunched her face up. “I _am_ smooth.”

“Nah, you’re a wuss.” Yaz looked between JJ and her idol with a knowing smirk. She grabbed JJ’s hand and started towards him. “Oi, Peter Pan!”

JJs eyes widened. She tried and failed to yank herself free from Yaz’s hold. “Yaz, wait!”

“Found one of your Lost Boys over here, mate!”

“Oh, my god,” whined JJ as Peter Pan waved them over with a boyish smile. “I hate you.”

“Guess you won’t be wanting to take a trip to Neverland later, then?” Yaz surmised with an airy undertone. They reached the small crowd and Yaz let JJ’s hand go in favour of pulling out her phone. 

JJ’s eyes cut sharply to Yaz. “Um. Is Neverland your—”

“There’s kids here, babe.” Nevertheless, Yaz shot JJ an affirmative wink and then opened her camera. She pushed a stammering JJ towards Peter Pan and held her phone up with a wicked grin. “Now say, ‘I believe in fairies’.”

* * *

JJ and Yaz passed the next few hours on tame kids’ rides, carriage tours, and carousels. They ate lunch in the gardens and snogged behind the haunted mansion after JJ witnessed Yaz eating an ice lolly in an outright sinful manner — which she was positive was intentional. When she’d kissed all the blueberry from Yaz’s cold, sugar-glazed lips, they headed to the shops.

By the time they emerged and made their way towards the entrance to meet up with the others, JJ was sporting a rainbow-gradient pair of Mickey ears and had a balloon tied to her wrist. They found Bill sitting on a bench on her phone. When she saw them heading over, she took one look at JJ and erupted into laughter. 

“Aw, Yaz,” she began, putting away her phone and getting to her feet, “please let me put her in my pocket and take her home.” 

“No can do, Bill. Yaz is takin’ me to Neverland, later,” revealed JJ. 

Bill raised her brows. “Do I even wanna know?”

“She fangirled over Peter Pan,” explained Yaz. “Poor lad didn’t know what hit him once she got started. Fairly sure she knew more about his character than he did.” 

“Why am I not surprised? A film about never growing up?” Bill looked JJ up and down fondly. “Fitting. Nemo’s where it’s at, though. Hands down the best Disney film.” 

“Nah, it’s gotta be Aladdin,” argued Yaz. “Used to love Jasmine.” 

Bill snorted.

“What’s funny about that?”

“No, nothing, it’s just — Jasmin. That’s what me and Jack have been calling the pair of you.”

JJ pinched her brows. “What?”

“You know…” Bill gestured between them as if it was self explanatory. “Jamie and Yasmin. Jasmin.”

Yaz cringed. “Christ, that’s nauseating.”

“I think it’s nice,” said JJ. She hugged Yaz from behind and smiled against her cheek. “Y’know, jasmines are symbols of love and beauty. And—” she dropped her voice to a whisper— “sensuality.” 

JJ couldn’t be sure, but did the skin at Yaz’s neck just begin to burn a little hotter? Yaz shoved away from her and JJ’s arms fell to her sides.

Bill pointed at JJ. “And that’s why you’re the better half of Jasmin.”

“Dick,” bit Yaz.

“Where’s Jack, anyway?” wondered JJ, shielding her eyes with her hand and scanning their surroundings. She couldn’t pick him out amongst the throngs of people streaming in and out through the turnstiles.

“Er.” Bill rubbed the back of her neck. “Let’s just say Cinderella’s a prince down at the minute.”

“You’re not serious?” asked Yaz.

“I bet him he couldn’t pull Prince Charming. My gaydar was way off with that one,” grumbled Bill. “Speaking of, anyone got a spare fifty euros knocking about? If not, it’s drinks on you tonight, Yaz.”

JJ frowned at Yaz. “Drinks?”

Yaz looked away. “Um, yeah, me and Bill are going out later.”

“Oh,” said JJ. “I didn’t realise.” 

After their conversation the night prior, and how worked up their time apart had gotten them both, JJ had assumed Yaz would want to spend as much of the weekend possible with her. After all, come Monday, JJ would be right back to working long days. Perhaps JJ had been misled into believing that that bothered Yaz anywhere near as much as it bothered JJ. Perhaps she ought to have known better. 

“We only just decided, like, this morning,” said Yaz.

“Yeah, but you should come, mate!” insisted Bill, clapping JJ on the shoulder. “I promise I ain’t just saying that ‘cause I ran out of funds two days ago. Scouts honour.”

JJ glanced at Yaz just in time to see the tail end of a barbed expression directed at Bill, who returned it with a puzzled frown. But then, when Yaz met JJ’s inquisitive gaze, she just smiled. “Yeah. You should come.”

“If you don’t want me there—”

“‘Course I want you there,” assured Yaz. JJ couldn’t be sure if she was imagining her lack of enthusiasm. 

“Oh, here he comes,” announced Bill, directing their attention towards Jack — who was jogging over with a face set in a cast of mischief and his usually waxed-to-perfection hair sticking out in odd directions. 

“Jack, where—”

“No time for that. I think the King’s guard might be after me,” interrupted Jack. He was breathing heavily — though whether from running or from something else entirely was anyone’s guess. 

“Bloody hell did you do?” demanded Bill.

“Nothing! Nothing illegal. I don’t think.” He glanced over his shoulder. In the distance, JJ could make out a few members of security heading their way. Jack looked at the trio with a waggish crook of his brows. “So, what do you say we make like it’s midnight and get the hell out of this ball, huh?”

* * *

“Flamingos or aliens?” asked JJ.

After making a hasty getaway from Disneyland, they’d all returned to the apartment to get washed and changed for the evening. Yaz was mostly ready; dressed in red and black plaid trousers and a white crop top beneath her new leather jacket. JJ would have to double check her bank statement, but she thought it might have been a Saint Laurent. Admittedly, she was less interested in the jacket than in the exposed midriff and toned abs on show. 

Yaz was tying her converse up using the edge of the chair by the vanity, when JJ held up two shirts for her approval. One was crisp white and adorned with tiny flamingos; the other was black silk and covered in oval-headed green aliens. Both deceptively expensive.

Yaz looked between the shirts and then shook her head at JJ. She dropped her foot from the chair. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty. And rich.” Yaz crossed the room, peeling the alien shirt out of JJ’s hands and tossing it onto the bed. Yaz helped JJ into the flamingo shirt and smoothed out the creases as she tucked it into her tailored slacks before the mirror.

“What d’you think?” she asked, tugging on her cuffs to straighten the sleeves.

“Mm. Hang on,” said Yaz. She disappeared from the mirror to go and rummage around in JJ’s drawers. When she returned, she did so with JJ’s black suspenders in hand. 

“Think it needs ‘em? I were just gonna wear a belt.”

“I think,” Yaz started, handing over the braces and rolling JJ’s shirtsleeves up to her elbows, “you look good in suspenders.”

Which was more than enough reason for JJ to do anything. When she faced the mirror to clip them on, she caught Yaz’s eye in the reflection. “Were you actually plannin’ on inviting me and Jack, tonight? ‘Cause you never mentioned anythin’ ‘til Bill brought it up.”

“You never usually say yes,” reasoned Yaz, spinning JJ around and popping open the top button of her shirt. Her eyes flitted to JJ’s hair and she ran her fingers through it, mussing it up just enough — as she’d once explained to JJ — to make her look effortlessly dishevelled. JJ always thought it was a little ridiculous to _want_ to look rumpled, but Yaz seemed to think it worked for her. 

“Well, that’s because I’ve usually got work the next mornin’ — which, by the way, I technically should,” confessed JJ, “but I delegated some stuff so that I could spend time with you.” 

Yaz’s gaze dropped and she drew away to perch on the edge of the bed. “I never asked you to do that, JJ.”

“Would y’rather I didn’t?” JJ followed Yaz, pocketing her hands upon approach.

“I just don’t want you making me a priority.”

“Y’think I’m gettin’ too attached?”

“You tell me, babe.”

The two of them regarded one another for a moment. If Yaz was saying something with those unblinking eyes of hers, it got lost in translation somewhere along the short stretch of space between them. With a sigh, JJ lifted her eyes and gazed out at the view beyond the balcony. The mid-evening sun leaned on the shoulders of the city and doused their room in hazy yellow. She stared at it until it burned — until it blotted her vision with a round, white spot — and only then did she feel ready to say what she had to say. 

“Yasmin, I know what people think of me,” began JJ. “They think that I don’t see what’s going on around me. They think I don’t understand things; that I’m naive.” 

Yaz sat up straighter. “Jamie—”

JJ held up a hand to cut Yaz off. If she let Yaz interrupt her now, she might lose the negligible shreds of nerve she was clinging to that had allowed her to bring the matter up in the first place. Yaz domed a brow but allowed JJ to press on. 

“People love to ruffle my hair and pat my head and treat me like a kid. I don’t mind. I know nobody means anythin’ by it. But, y’know, every now and again I’d like it if people would acknowledge that I’m an adult. I might be a bit different, yeah. I’ll grant you that. That doesn’t make me stupid, though, Yaz.” She took a steadying breath, clenching and unclenching her hands in her pockets. “I know that just ‘cause I woke up in your arms, that doesn’t mean you feel for me the way I feel about you. Y’don’t need to play these games — icing me out just to make a point. It frustrates me. I don’t like guessing, and I don’t like it when you force me to.” 

Surprising JJ, Yaz took a moment to pause. She chewed her painted lip and deliberated JJ’s words. JJ half expected Yaz to deny it; to make out like she was imagining things and being paranoid. Instead, she patted the space on the bed next to her.

“Sit down, JJ.”

JJ sat down beside her. Yaz crossed her legs and sat with her back to the bed frame, and JJ shelved her concerns about footwear on the bed amidst her anxieties about Yaz’s response. 

“Okay, maybe you’re right,” admitted Yaz. JJ lifted her brows. “I were being a little bit cold. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a dick to you, babe, but I just really wanna avoid leading you on. I don’t wanna give you reason to like me any more than you should.”

“I think we’re a little beyond that,” JJ reckoned.

Yaz shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She sat forwards and leaned her elbows on her knees. “The thing is, you _think_ you feel things for me. Real things. But you said yourself, you’ve got me up on a pedestal.”

“Well, what’s wrong with that?” asked JJ. She shuffled a little closer to Yaz and put a hand on her calf. “All that means is that I see you. How brilliant you are.”

“This is exactly why—” Yaz groaned, balling her fists on top of her lap. “Look, the fact that you don’t see my flaws and faults when you look at me; the fact that you let me get away with murder and don’t say anything about it ‘cause you’re worried I’ll walk away — none of that is what you think it is. You’re infatuated, JJ. It happens. It’ll fade.”

“No, I know how I feel.” JJ squeezed Yaz’s leg lightly. “I’m lookin’ at you, Yaz, and I _know._ Like I know my own name. Like I know your favourite three perfumes in order, and exactly how many steps it takes to get from the sidewalk outside your building right to your front door. I know it like I know every inch of your body by heart, Yasmin — and I could sketch you in my sleep.”

Pity packed Yaz’s features and JJ felt it like a blow to the face. “If what you felt were real, it wouldn’t be worship. It wouldn’t be so imbalanced. You’d see me as a person, and not as some kind of miracle.”

“But you _are_. It’s not delusional if it’s true.”

“It’s true for _now,_ ” said Yaz. She uncrossed her legs and leaned forwards to cup JJ’s face in her hands, and the cool metal of her rings made JJ realise how warm her skin was running. She exhaled deeply to calm herself. “It’s true for now, so let’s enjoy it while it lasts, okay?”

JJ covered one of Yaz’s hands with her own and hoped the depth of her genuity came across when she asked, “What if it lasts forever?”

Yaz pulled her head back a token distance. Her pupils leapt between each of JJ’s and, for an exhilarating few seconds, JJ thought she’d gotten through to her. Convinced her. Except then the shutters came down over the door she’d just opened a crack and Yaz steeled herself once more. “It won’t,” she decided, “but that’s fine, Jamie. Really. I’m fine with that.”

Though JJ wanted to protest further, she realised that the only way Yaz would be fine with her feelings not being genuine was if she didn’t reciprocate them. Which she already knew, but it reminded her of the pointlessness of continuing on in this vein when nothing she said could change the way Yaz felt about her. Yaz was nothing if not resolute. It was one of the many things JJ so adored about her, but it was also the scourge of her heart.

Yaz tilted JJ’s head up to coax the renewed attention of her downturned eyes. “Okay, babe?” 

JJ yielded. “Okay.”

“Good,” smiled Yaz. She dropped her hands from JJ’s face to her shoulders. “You really are good to me, JJ. I’m sorry I upset you.”

Some troubling, inner voice urged JJ to unveil the truth; to scream that all Yaz ever did was upset JJ. Her every kiss and laugh and touch, and the fact that one day all of this was going to come to a miserable end, was a bottomless well of despair from which JJ couldn’t help but drink and drink and drink. If JJ had any sense, she’d get out now — before her insatiable greed for just one more taste ended up drowning her. Nobody had ever accused JJ of having much sense. 

Yaz pulled JJ in by her neck, and then they were kissing. More heartache. Something else to mourn before it was even over. 

Lips that now parted for her tongue would one day part to utter a final goodbye. Hands that pulled on her suspenders would one day pull away from JJ and never reach back out to hold her. Yaz was both present and an echo; solid and somehow so translucent JJ might have fallen right through her when she eased her onto her back. 

JJ crawled on top of Yaz and wondered when she had become so dependent on her own ruin. But then, in all fairness, ruin had never looked nor tasted nor felt so much like salvation. And breaking hearts was a two person affair. 

It took a giver and a taker. 

JJ gave a little more when she splayed her fingers across the taut skin of Yaz’s abdomen and skirted them beneath the hem of her crop top. She took a full handful of Yaz into her palm over the flimsy material of her bralette, honing in on the peak of her breast and aggravating it until it was hard and sensitive to every tweak and touch. 

“The others are gonna be waiting, babe,” Yaz mumbled against her lips.

“Let ‘em wait.”

Trailing kisses from the corner of her mouth to the solid contour of her jaw and then to her neck, JJ pinned her knee against the apex of Yaz’s legs and ran her tongue along the length of her carotid artery towards her pulse, like following a stream towards its plentiful spring. She dove in — teeth first. Yaz knotted her fingers in JJ’s hair and shifted her hips to spark a little friction against the knee between her thighs.

“So, your whole speech earlier,” began Yaz, grunting when JJ twisted a nipple between her fingers, “does that mean I can’t ruffle your hair anymore?”

“You can do whatever you want to me, Yaz.” JJ slid her hand out of Yaz’s shirt and replaced the knee between her thighs with her hand, palming her over her trousers and prompting her to arch into the touch. “You know that.”

“If you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

“It doesn’t matter,” JJ disregarded, finding a new patch of skin on Yaz’s neck to lather with her tongue and pressing her fingers harder against Yaz through the thick cotton. JJ’s hair was the least of her worries when it came down to all the things she let Yaz get away with doing to her. She couldn’t help that the things she hated anyone else doing were inexplicably godsends when they came from Yaz.

JJ groped her a little rougher and Yaz sighed and bent her knees. “JJ, are you okay? You seem a bit—”

“Just focused on you, Yaz. That’s all.” JJ set to work on unbuckling Yaz’s belt, inwardly cursing that she was wearing high waisted pants and not a skirt or a dress. 

“Okay. Well, then let me focus on you,” Yaz implored, tugging JJ’s suspenders down over her shoulders.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to, babe.” Yaz peeled JJ’s braces off the rest of the way and untucked her shirt. She looked up at JJ through mascara-thick lashes while she unzipped her slacks, eyes faltering over her mouth when JJ darted a tongue over her lower lip. “C’mon. Clock’s ticking.”

JJ pressed Yaz’s head deeper into the pillow with a kiss and reached into her trousers while Yaz did the same. They kneaded one another through their underwear, sighing and panting into the kiss and rolling their pelvises in time with the motions between their legs. Jack’s laugh echoed along the outside hallway and reminded them to work faster. Thankfully, they were both quick to work up. JJ could already feel how ready Yaz was through the fine lace at her fingers.

It struck JJ as odd that, after being so bluntly rejected for the hundredth time, her first urge had been to lie Yaz down and rub salt in the weeping wound she called a heart. She couldn’t say if it had been a failed attempt to forget or if she was intentionally hurting herself — if only because she liked the way it felt when it was Yaz. 

Given the angle, and given that they were doing things in sync in an effort to try and speed things along, it was a bit of an awkward entanglement. JJ might have called it graceless, but nothing was truly without grace in Yaz’s presence. Dignified or no, Yaz still gasped her approval when JJ buried a finger inside her and JJ exhaled deeply when Yaz finally slid her hand beneath the waistband of her boxers and guided her fingers home. 

JJ knocked her forehead against Yaz’s and felt the fingers between her thighs work faster to match the pace of her own between Yaz’s. Short of breath, they panted hotly against one another’s parted lips and sank into the depths of one another’s eyes. Heady chestnut warred with emerald brown and there were no victors. 

They closed their eyes and hid like cowards behind a kiss. 

Yaz’s tongue dived past JJ’s lips and her body was mortifyingly receptive; gut rolling with arousal and another influx of viscid heat rushing to envelop Yaz’s fingers. Driven by the resultant, slick sounds, JJ pressed a firmer pressure to Yaz’s budding nerves. With JJ’s tongue still boldly exploring her mouth, Yaz whimpered. JJ couldn’t help the low groan she elicited in turn. 

“God, Yasmin, I love the way you moan,” whispered JJ. 

Yaz didn’t open her eyes. “Then keep going.” 

Their soft moans and heaving chests and fast fingers were congruous with one another. More, JJ thought drily, than could be said for their fates, futures; asynchronous hearts. Frustrated at her inability to keep out of her head long enough to simply enjoy making Yaz come, JJ gritted her teeth through a vexed grunt and bore down harder against her. With every rapid motion, the mattress trembled beneath them and Yaz’s breathing became more and more erratic. 

Hot and wet, JJ kissed Yaz’s throat and bit down leniently on the lobe of her ear. She could feel the vibrations of Yaz’s vocal chords against her cheek when she let loose another low, husky moan. Yaz’s hand in JJ’s boxers began to waver. JJ realised Yaz was toeing the ledge and, as though a hand at her back getting ready to push, she maintained her punishing pace. 

“ _Fuck,_ JJ.”

Really, though, it was only herself she was punishing when she drew away to bear witness to Yaz as she came. Yaz’s fingers stilled against JJ and her head tilted back — veins pulsing visibly against the stretch of her neck and tremors agitating her jaw. Sometimes, a person’s pleasure could look a lot like agony. 

Right then, that wasn’t the case. 

Yaz’s ecstasy was undoubtedly that. An endorphin-drunk smile plucked at vermillion lips like deft fingers plucking the strings of a silver-toned instrument. Indeed, not seconds later, music followed in the form of a guttural, seraphic moan and JJ sighed her contribution to the orchestra. So, too, did she conduct Yaz through the crescendo, chasing her pitching hips and continuing to massage her with rapacious dedication.

And through it all, all JJ heard herself thinking was: _remember this, remember this, remember this._ It was a mantra she recited often. She never knew when the last time was going to be, and so she never took a single second for granted. Rather, she cultivated as many of them as possible. 

Which is why, as Yaz began to relax, JJ slowed her fingers, waited for Yaz’s breathing to even out and for the fog to clear from her eyes, and then ambushed her while her defences were down. 

JJ dipped into the damp fount of her arousal with her fingertips like a quill to ink and found her former stride in no time, as if she’d never even stopped. With the ink, JJ scribbled against Yaz all the things she wished she could say out loud and all the things she wished Yaz would say back to her and she wasn’t even a quarter of the way through when Yaz’s whole body tensed up and she came for a second time.

And JJ was ready. Ready to draw the moan from Yaz’s throat with a mostly one sided kiss; ready to carry her safely through rocky, uncertain waters all the way to the sun-soaked shore on the other side with the guidance of careful fingers and anchoring lips.

Yaz put her hand on JJ’s chest; pressed pause on the kiss while she caught her breath. JJ tucked Yaz’s hair behind her ear and let her hand linger on the side of her face, swiping her thumb over her cheek fondly. 

“Y’know, I’ve never known anyone who looks as gorgeous as you do when you come,” said JJ. Even now, breathless and rumpled as the lustre on her skin caught the amber light of the descending sun, Yaz was a wonder to behold. Sanctified in the afterglow. It was as if somebody had cut a piece of cloth forged from the late evening sky and used threads of golden light to weave it seamlessly into the shape of Yaz. 

And if Yaz was the sky, it was no wonder JJ was forever so dizzy with vertigo around her. Perpetually in free fall. She hadn’t known solid ground since the day they met; the day Yaz swept her off it and suspended her in stomach-churning limbo. Would she hit the ground or would she one day succumb to the hostile atmosphere?

Whatever her gruesome fate, she was willing to accept it. Willing, even, to be the architect that penned it. Right alongside a reminder; a note-to-self.

_Remember_ _this._

“Right,” laughed Yaz. “That why there’s always an encore? You like watching the show?”

“Never heard you complainin’.”

“And you won’t.”

JJ only remembered the hand in her boxers when Yaz looked down at their hips. She repositioned her fingers and JJ took the moment to rest her weight on the forearms resting either side of Yaz. She braced herself just in time for Yaz to find her rhythm once more.

Likely thinking of their time constraints, Yaz didn’t pull any punches. She was directed in her attack. JJ’s nerves, fortunately, were already over sensitive and over receptive and the accumulating pressure in her gut told her she wasn’t long for the lucidity she was clinging to. 

Gasping quietly, JJ dropped her head and curled her hands into fists. Yaz went straight for the sensitive flesh beneath her ear with her teeth and tongue, encouraging a deep rumble from the base of JJ’s throat.

But it wasn’t until Yaz purred a soft, “You feel so good, Jamie. So, so good,” against her throat that JJ’s body began to twitch and her gasps became hushed moans and she felt the impending wave of her own pleasure crash down around her and submerge her entirely. She buried her face into the crook of Yaz’s neck when she came, groaning against the leather of her collar. 

Her arms trembled and then gave; by the time Yaz was finished coaxing her through her orgasm, she was slumped almost totally on top of her like a dead weight. Luckily, she had just enough sense to briefly lift her hips and allow Yaz to pull her hand free. 

There was a deep ache in her gut and a deeper one in her chest when, with her face still buried in Yaz’s shoulder and their heaving ribs chasing one another back and forth, JJ heard Yaz say, “Um, babe? You can get off me, now.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

JJ rolled off her. Yaz started to move towards the edge of the bed with a comment about changing her underwear, only to stop when she noticed that JJ wasn’t moving; that she was lying on her back and staring at the ceiling with a slack face. Yaz put her hand on JJ’s chest. 

Bitterly, JJ remarked to herself that she shouldn’t stop there. Why not reach inside and yank out the one thing JJ had yet to find a way to gift her without her throwing it back in her face or asking for a receipt? Why not tear it to shreds right now? Such a useless thing. They both could do without it.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” asked Yaz.

_It doesn’t matter._

Lifting Yaz’s hand to her lips, JJ kissed her knuckles and forced a brilliant smile. “I’m always okay, Yasmin.”

_And I’m always lying._

Whether convinced or apathetic, JJ couldn’t say. Either way, Yaz returned JJ’s smile and leaned over her. Sticky, swollen lips met for the thousandth time and JJ’s sad sigh could easily have been construed as content.

_Will you even remember this?_

* * *

The bar they ended up at was one of Jack’s recommendations.

Without question, they wouldn’t have been able to find it without his direction. A few streets away from the main drag, they arrived at a building with a purposefully discreet frontage. The panelled wood door blended in with the identical facade; easy to miss the creases that gave it away in the waning light. 

The inconspicuous entrance gave way to a speakeasy styled for prohibition-era America: log-cabin panelling, low ceilings; cosy booths separated by frosted glass. As with the rest of the seats, the stools at the bar were cushioned with red velvet, and the old, elegant lampshades lent the place the atmosphere of a bygone era. They made their way downstairs, where they played more current music and had a small space cleared for dancing. 

Jack and Yaz were at the bar getting in a second round of cocktails, leaving Bill and JJ alone at their booth. JJ was chewing on her straw and absently studying the constellations inked onto Bill’s skin, which continued on even past the rolled up sleeves of her flannel.

“So, you guys took your time getting ready earlier,” teased Bill.

JJ looked away and swirled the half-melted ice in her glass around with a small shrug. “Couldn’t decide what to wear.”

“Yeah, right,” Bill doubted with a chuckle. “God, you’re like a couple of teenagers, you two.” She threw a rolled up napkin at JJ, looking mightily impressed with herself when it bounced off her shoulder and landed in her glass. Not that JJ noticed.

She was too busy gazing at Yaz, who was leaning sideways against the bar with one hand in her jacket pocket and the other drumming along to the beat of the music on the bartop. Jack leaned in to say something to her and she laughed, and JJ cursed the music and the crowd for swallowing it up before it could reach her ears. 

“Hard to keep your hands off someone who looks like that,” she mumbled, forcing herself to look away. 

All traces of humour slipped from Bill’s face. She crossed her arms on the table and leaned forwards. “Have you ever been in love, JJ?” Bill asked. And then, without giving JJ a chance to respond to the question she’d posed, she said, “‘Cause Yaz hasn't. She doesn’t let herself do that. I mean, I understand why. Her life’s been… weird. And the punters at the club don’t exactly give you much faith in the whole love deal.”

“What’s your point, Bill?” 

“I’m just saying, mate,” shrugged Bill. “Yaz breaks hearts for a living. She’s bloody good at it. Can’t see her changing her ways any time soon.”

JJ glanced at Yaz and then abruptly looked away when she realised that she was already watching them. Bill’s expression was atypically sober when she looked back. “You really don’t think she could ever see me like that?”

“I didn’t say she _couldn’t._ It’s just that, even if she did, she’d run away from it. She’s not the type to let herself be vulnerable. Around anyone. And you can’t force it, you know? Can’t buy it, either. No matter how loaded you are,” said Bill. At JJ’s frown, she held her hands up. “I’m not saying this to be a nob. I like you, mate — and I love Yaz. But I said from the moment I saw you that she was gonna crush you. She won’t mean to, but she will. Unless you cool it with those bloody heart eyes.”

“Well, what can I do?” asked JJ, slumping back in her seat. “I can’t help the way she makes me feel.”

“Can’t you?”

“What’s that s’posed to mean?”

Bill pursed her lips and scratched the skin behind her ear — right over her lightning bolt. “You’re kinda putting all your eggs in one basket here, mate, don’t you think? The eggs being your fingers and the basket being Yaz’s—”

“That’s — okay, got it. Thanks,” stammered JJ. She sighed. “It’s just that she’s… she’s the only one I’ve met in a long time who makes life exciting again. She keeps me on my toes, and she doesn’t laugh at me when I get all messed up or when I’m a bit weird, and she _cares,_ Bill. She cares about me. She told me so.”

“She did?”

“Is that unusual?”

“It’s… something.” This time, it was Bill’s turn to seek Yaz out across the room. When her eyes landed, she held her in her sights with pinched brows. “Don't get me wrong, it’s not weird that she cares. Ask me, I think Yaz’s heart’s a lot bigger than she lets on.”

“But?”

“But it’s kinda weird that she’d tell you.” Bill turned back towards JJ. “Can’t work out why she would. Coming from anyone else, it’s not a big deal, but from Yaz? She’s from Yorkshire, mate. Might as well be a love letter.” 

JJ’s eyes widened and Bill seemed to clock on to what she’d implied too late.

“Not that she’s — no, don’t look at her like that. Shit, this talk’s going all wrong,” stressed Bill. “All I was tryna suggest is that you should consider some other options, mate. Ease off a bit. Then you won’t have to worry about any of these head games.”

“Yeah, but you said—”

“Tell you what, I can make you a banging Tinder account if you want,” interrupted Bill, nodding towards JJ’s phone lying face down on the table. “You’d be fucking swimming in it, then.”

“Good luck with that endeavour, Bill,” Jack cut in. He sidled in next to her with their drinks; Yaz was in tow with both her own and JJ’s cocktails to hand. Accepting hers with a small smile, JJ shuffled up to allow Yaz to sit next to her. “I’ve been tryna get Jamie to put her heart online for years. Or at least those two perky little things in front of it.”

“Sod off, Jack.”

Yaz snorted. “Can’t imagine JJ tryna flirt with the birds on Tinder.” 

“Y’know, I am sittin’ right here,” JJ rebuked. “And I wouldn’t. Dating apps are just… they’re impersonal. How’re you s’posed to know if you like someone based on a couple of pictures and a biased summary of their personality that they wrote themselves? It’s ridiculous.”

“Nah, but it’s not like anyone’s asking you to fall in love with them,” explained Bill. “If the physical attraction’s there, then great. You meet, you bone, and if there’s more to it, brilliant! If not, well, it’s not the end of the world. Least you got a shag. And don’t tell me you’re not into casual things, ‘cos Yaz told me about what’s under your bed.”

Jack’s interest piqued and he looked between the three of them with a puzzled frown. “Wait, what’s under her bed?”

Yaz winced when JJ shot her a look. “Nice one, Bill.”

“I haven’t done that in a while,” JJ admitted. What she didn’t say — what she needn’t have said, because the truth was glaringly obvious to all present — was that she hadn’t even considered it since meeting Yaz. Not once.

On her travels, and given the broad network of people she dealt with day in and day out, it wasn’t uncommon for people to show an interest in JJ. This, helped by Jack playing wingman at every turn. In the past, if the attraction was mutual, she had no reason not to indulge in some harmless fun — even if she usually felt a little downtrodden when she never heard from them again. Since that first night with Yaz, she’d turned every advance down. 

JJ knew Yaz didn’t expect any form of loyalty from her. She knew, if the tables were turned, Yaz would likely not have any of the same reservations. The fact remained, JJ just didn’t _want_ to sleep with anyone else. She didn’t see any of them. Not like she saw Yaz.

She saw Yaz everywhere she turned.

But Yaz didn’t even see JJ when she was sitting right next to her, did she? Every time JJ started to think otherwise, Yaz would do or say something to remind her of the grim truth of their reality. Like right now. She plucked the olive from her martini, pulled it off its toothpick with her teeth, and levelled JJ with a pair of lukewarm eyes.

“You should,” she said. 

Yaz bit down on the olive; bit down on whatever baseless hopes Bill’s supposition had left her with. She ground her teeth on the brittle bones of them and swallowed with a smack of her lips she wasn’t to know seemed so supremely sadistic. 

JJ didn’t protest when Bill swiped her phone. 

* * *

Due to her penchant for sweet, juicy cocktails that didn’t at all taste like their alcohol content, JJ was able to knock back drink after drink without realising how inebriated she was becoming. That is, until the four of them got up to play darts a short while later and she all but stumbled into Yaz. She wasn’t alone, though. The others had all had as much to drink as she — if not more. 

That didn’t stop JJ and Jack from thrashing the others at darts.

“You guys are well cheating,” Bill accused, leaning her elbow on one of the standing tables. 

“Nah, we’re just old pros,” said Jack, letting a dart fly and pumping his fist when it hit the bullseye. He positioned a second dart between his fingers and glanced at Bill. “I had a dartboard in my garage growing up. Jamie and I spent many a night drinking cheap, pilfered beer and perfecting our craft. Right, JJ?”

JJ, who was leaning against the wall a safe distance from the board, nodded her head. “And dreamin’ about where we’d end up in the future.”

“Where was that, then?” wondered Yaz, finishing off her cocktail and setting the glass down on the table. JJ thought it was a wonder that she wasn’t swaying — she’d been drinking the lot of them under the table. 

“Exactly where we are,” Jack answered between his second and third toss. “We had a plan. Wrote it down on pizza boxes and scrap bits of paper. This was always the goal — building our own empire from the ground up. _Smith and Harkness_ , baby. One of the biggest firms in the nation. But, you ask JJ—”

“We’ll be the biggest in five years,” JJ cut in matter-of-factly. “Six at a stretch”

Jack grinned. “Always got a plan. Show ‘em, Jamie.”

JJ, who was admittedly quite drunk, needed no more encouragement than that. Using a stash of napkins and her Montblanc (because “a good architect always has a great pen on hand”), she detailed her five year plan to skyrocket their firm to greater success. 

Bill and Yaz watched her bullet point a step by step business scheme, sketch out projections; calculate and recalculate revenue and net profit and how every single pound could be turned into fifty when invested properly. The whole time, a figure — how much their company was worth — kept growing and growing and growing. At the end of JJ’s demonstration, JJ stepped back and pocketed her pen whilst Bill and Yaz peered at the damp napkin and gauged the final number.

“Shit,” muttered Bill. She looked at Yaz. “It’s quite hot when she goes all _Moneyball,_ init?”

If the way Yaz dragged her eyes over JJ then was anything to go by, she was in agreement. She put her arm around JJ’s waist, pulled her in, and whispered something so obscene regarding precisely what she planned to do to her later that JJ was left standing stock still and speechless even when she pulled away to take her turn at darts. 

Needless to say, the turn the night took not half an hour later caught everybody by surprise. Bill and JJ were at the jukebox beside the bar arguing over what song to play. Next to them, Jack watched on with faint amusement. Yaz was a few feet away getting in a round with JJ’s cash and when, in her frustration with Bill’s obstinance, JJ threw her hands up and looked to her as if for support, she stopped dead in her tracks.

A young woman with an undercut, who JJ had noticed giving Yaz eyes all night, touched her on her shoulder to get her attention. “Hey, sorry to bother you — I couldn’t help but notice your accent. Are you from Yorkshire?” asked the woman in an almost identical accent. 

JJ tried to act as though she weren’t listening, but whenever Bill or Jack spoke to her she couldn’t help but let her eyes and ears wander back to the scene at the bar as both Yaz and her blatant admirer realised they were from the same town; that they might have known a couple of the same people and how crazy was it that they were both here on holiday at the same time? The woman laughed (a little too loud — if you were to ask JJ) at something Yaz said and touched her wrist. Yaz didn’t stop her.

She was smooth enough, JJ thought. And undeniably pretty. And Yaz’s age. 

And not JJ. 

Bill slung an arm over JJ’s shoulder when she clocked on to the reason for her divided attention. “Come on, Hefner. Let your bunny roam, yeah?”

JJ grimaced. “Please, don’t ever call me that again.” 

She resisted Bill’s attempts at guiding her away long enough to hear the woman suggest linking up with Yaz when they both got back home, and could she get her number? As if to look over her shoulder at JJ, Yaz started to turn her head — but then stopped. 

“Um, sure,” Yaz said. “Hand me your phone?”

“Ouch,” said Bill.

Jack appeared at their side. “More lesbian drama? Hang on, this requires its own soundtrack.” With that, he fished out some loose change and returned to the jukebox. Moments later, a Tegan and Sara song began to play — amusing nobody but Jack.

By nature, JJ wasn’t a particularly angry person. However, as she was forced to stand there and watch Yaz give her number to this total stranger right in front of her face, her blood began to simmer and then bubble and then boil beneath her skin, and the slam of her heart might as well have been a drumbeat in her ears. Fists clenched, she started forwards.

Bill gripped her wrist and yanked her back. “That’s not the way about it, mate. Trust me.”

“I don’t understand — why is she doing this?” seethed JJ. Yaz herself had said that, while they were away together, it was just the two of them. No one else. Had she been lying or did she just forget?

“Why does Yaz do anything?” posed Bill. “She marches to her own beat, JJ. I tried to warn you.” 

Drunk and enraged, JJ turned to Bill — who was still holding her back by her arm — and fixed her with eyes that might never have known such a devastating storm. Chest heaving with anger, she glanced at the fingers curled around her wrist and a bitter, petty, alcohol-fuelled idea began to form at the eye of the storm. Why should she always be the one getting hurt? Why should she always just take it? 

It was plain to see that nobody took her feelings seriously, so maybe it was due time she stopped taking them so seriously, too. That’s what everybody had been telling her nonstop; what Yaz had been telling her given any opportunity. She should lighten up. Have some fun. Fuck around.

_Fine._

Bill frowned at JJ. “Uh, I think I know where your mind’s at right now, mate. Even though I’m oddly proud of you, you might come to regret that.” 

“I don’t care,” said JJ. The apathy in her voice was uncharacteristic; alien. She sounded like Yaz.

“Hold on, what am I missing?” asked Jack. 

They both ignored him. 

“You’re sure?” Bill checked.

_No._

“Yes.”

JJ pulled out of Bill’s grip and took her by the hand. She led her across the bar, right past Yaz and her new friend, all the way down the short hallway on the other end of the room and into one of the restrooms. It was a spacious wooden cubicle fitted with a sink and mirror; graffiti littered every inch of the walls. JJ slammed the door shut, palm lingering flat against the wood as she looked down at her feet and listened to the sound of her own unsteady breathing. 

Bill put a hand on her arm. “You don’t actually have to—”

JJ kissed Bill.

Kissing Bill was strange. It didn’t feel like kissing Yaz. Her heart didn’t perform any of its usual acrobatics and Bill’s slip of tongue didn’t short-circuit her brain and leave her dumb and disjointed as it would if it were Yaz’s. This isn’t to say that Bill wasn’t a good kisser, because she was. But she also wasn’t Yaz.

And that’s what she tasted like.

Not Yaz.

But she wasn’t doing this because she wanted Bill and they both knew it. She was doing it because she was hurting, and because maybe there was a sliver of a chance that Yaz would be jealous; that this might be the thing to make her realise that she really did want to be with JJ after all. And Bill was willing to let herself be used to that end. 

JJ pushed Bill up against the wall. Like all of this, her sudden need to be in control was out of character and confusing and JJ didn’t try to think about it. She slid a hand into the back pocket of Bill’s jeans and Bill chuckled through the kiss.

“Cheeky.”

“D’you mind if we don’t talk?”

“Sure, but I can do a banging impression of Yaz, if that’ll turn you—”

When JJ kissed Bill with greater force, she thankfully took the hint. Bill tugged JJ’s suspenders off and, when she remembered that she was only wearing them for Yaz’s sake in the first place, JJ’s dark pall of thundering anger eclipsed her whole sky. 

All she could think was that Yaz didn’t want her, Yaz didn’t see her; Yaz pretended to care about her but how could that be the case if she was constantly putting her through hell? JJ pressed her leg between Bill’s thighs and dropped her kisses to her throat while Bill hastily untucked her shirt. 

There was a loud knock at the door.

“Occupied!” shouted Bill. 

Just as JJ set to work on the buttons of Bill’s jeans, the door swung open and slammed against the wall and JJ remembered with a wince that she’d forgotten to lock it.

Bill cleared her throat. “Uh, JJ.”

JJ turned. Yaz was standing in the doorway — the picture of rage. She looked from the suspenders hanging off JJ’s hips, to her untucked shirts, to the undone buttons of Bill’s jeans, and then to JJ’s face. They stared one another down. Part of JJ was tempted to jump into an avid apology and beg for forgiveness. In the end, fury and jealousy won out and quelled the urge.

“Really?” demanded Yaz. “You were just gonna shag right here?”

“It were your idea, remember?” said JJ, peeling away from Bill and running a hand through her hair. “Y’said I could. That I should.”

Eyes a hostile wasteland JJ thought she was liable to wither and perish amidst the blistering heat of, Yaz took a furious step closer. “And what part of your _prodigious_ brain decided that what I meant by that was that you should bang my best mate while I’m standing in the next room?” Yaz looked Bill up and down with disgust. “I don’t even know what to say to you.”

“Aw, come on, Yaz,” sighed Bill, buttoning her jeans back up. “She’s your sugar! You said yourself that’s all it is. She was upset. I was just tryna help.”

“Brilliant,” Yaz laughed spitefully. “Well, in that case, don’t let me stop you.”

Yaz stalked out of the room and JJ, still tucking her shirt back in, jogged after her and blocked her path in the hallway. 

“Get out of my way, JJ,” Yaz snapped.

“Why do you even care about this?” challenged JJ. “You don’t have any right to care! If you can give your number out to strangers right in front of me, while you’re standing at the bar with my money in your hands, then I should be able to have sex with whoever I want.”

Yaz looked at her for a long moment and JJ forced herself not to shrink back. “It was a fake number,” she revealed after what felt like an age. 

JJ’s heart stopped. “What?”

“And you know what? I don’t care that you wanted to fuck Bill,” Yaz pressed on, not affording JJ the chance to analyse her revelation. “I care that you wanted to do it just to hurt me. It’s the fact that you went out of your way to do it with those specific intentions in mind. I mean, who does that?”

“No, wait—”

“Guess I should thank you, though. Made me realise you’re not the person I thought you were, JJ.” Yaz stepped up to her and JJ swore she could feel the heat of her volcanic temper. “‘Cause, silly me, I was actually starting to think that you were different. But you’re just like everybody else, aren’t you? You’re _exactly_ the same. And I needed that reminder. So, thanks a lot, babe. You’ve just done me a huge favour.” 

Yaz shoved past JJ and stormed back into the bar. JJ, head spinning and thoughts a nauseating whirlwind, merely watched her go with her useless lips parted around an apology she couldn’t voice. 

Bill came up beside her and blew her cheeks out. “Shit. Dunno about you, mate, but I could go for another drink right about now.”

Face in her hands, JJ slumped against the wall with a groan. “What have I done?”

“You did what you set out to do, JJ,” said Bill. She clapped JJ on the shoulder and sighed. “You rocked the boat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u can scream but please don't scream AT me bc i'm babey i can't take it if ur mean


	6. i don't need saving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: implied past abuse; referenced sexual threat

The world felt thick and dull and wrong.

Supposedly, JJ was standing at the bar with Bill. But was she? Was she really there, and had all of that really just happened? It didn’t feel like it. It felt like she was looking through the murky lens of somebody else’s life; witnessing an unfurling series of events that she herself played no part in. Her body was not her own — not her guilty lips or her criminal hands — and her callousness was surely somebody else’s to claim. 

She looked over her shoulder. Yaz sat at their booth with Jack, who appeared to be trying and failing to fight her corner. Her gaze cut towards the bar. JJ turned rapidly away, that she might avoid the piercing impact of those daggers; those throwing knives Yaz had a habit of chucking so freely. 

JJ couldn’t decide if her prevalent disposition at the moment was shame, confusion; anger; hurt — or if she was just really, really drunk. 

To sum it up, JJ was all kinds of distracted and extremely out of sorts.

This is why she didn’t initially notice the man standing shoulder to shoulder with her at the bar; why, when she reached into her pocket to pull out her wallet, she didn’t have enough sense to manoeuvre out of his way and avoid elbowing him. It was just JJ’s luck that he’d have a drink in his hand at the time. When her elbow landed, the impact sent his beer sloshing out of its glass and all down the front of his expensive, white shirt. 

They both jumped back. 

“Shit!” swore JJ. “Sorry, I didn’t even—”

“What the fuck are you playing at?” shouted the man. He slammed his glass down and peered down at his soggy shirt. He was tall enough that JJ had to tilt her head back to meet his furious eyes. “Watch where the fuck you’re going!”

“Oi!” Bill jumped in. “Relax, mate. It was an accident.”

“I’m really sorry,” mumbled JJ. She picked up a stash of napkins from the bar. The man knocked her hand away when she tried to help and she flinched, shoulders going rigid and eyes dropping to the ground, as with the napkins falling from her hand. 

“Are you fucking blind? Do you know how much this shirt costs?”

The bartender cleared her throat. “Madame, your drinks. You’re holding up the queue.” 

The man continued to shout abuse at her. With shaking hands, she glanced at the amassing queue at the bar — each of them grumbling under their breath, staring right at her, rolling their eyes at their friends. Bill, with only the best of intentions, gave the man as good as they got. But the raised voices right in her ear were doing very little to help matters. Everything was so loud and everybody was so angry. With her. Again. 

_Idiot, idiot, idiot._

Her repeated, shaky apologies were drowned out by the man’s screaming and the intervention of some of the people in the crowd closest to them. Was she even there? Her voice didn’t sound like her own, and nobody was listening anyway. She didn’t even feel it when he shoved her. 

Blood was rushing in her ears but it might as well have been howling wind or a violent wave. She’d rocked the boat and now it was taking on water. All of a sudden, she was submerged. People’s mouths were moving but their words came out muddled and unclear and she couldn’t process anything that was happening through the distortion of the rippled surface. 

Heart storm-tossed and panicky, fists clenched so hard they trembled, clipped nails digging into her palm, JJ thought she might throw up. Everything was too much. It was all just too much. She needed out — but how? Her feet weren’t working. Nothing was working. She was broken.

_Broken, broken, broken._

Jack’s voice in her ear scarcely registered to begin with. “Go through the streets, Jamie,” he whispered. His hands were on her shoulders and his forehead was pressed against hers and none if it felt real. “Can you hear me? Your streets, come on. I know you haven’t forgotten. Leicester Street, Oakland Avenue… come on, JJ.” 

“L — Leicester Street,” began JJ. Her voice was so shrunken. She was folding in on herself. Fading and falling and — _no._ The streets. She knew the streets. JJ gritted her teeth. “Oakland Avenue, Churchill Road….” 

Under her breath, eyes unseeing, she continued to cycle through the list of street names. Distantly, she became aware of a hand on her back and a low exchange and voices she recognised but couldn’t identify. Next thing, she was being led carefully up the steps and out of the bar. When the door closed behind her and she stepped out onto the street, she was still reciting the streets with her head ducked.

“Lyon Close, Smithfield Lane….”

“JJ? Can you hear me, babe?”

And back to the beginning. “Leicester Street, Oakland Avenue, Churchill Road…” 

Then, Yaz’s hands on her arms. Firm. Present. Real. Her face, her fretful eyes — not angry anymore — breached her vision. “Jamie, you’re okay. We’re outside. Look,” she implored.

JJ dragged her eyes away from Yaz and swept them across their surroundings. The street was quiet and dark, save for a yellow puddle of light spilled across the sidewalk beneath a nearby lamppost. Out here, the din of the bar was muffled — but the thrum of music and muted cheer was just about discernible. A couple of people stood smoking outside the entrance from which they had emerged, each of them affording JJ a strange look. 

“The fuck are you looking at?” Yaz demanded. Their audience turned away, red-faced and chagrined. She sighed and angled JJ’s body so that she was facing away from them. Her hands moved from her shoulders to loosely cup her neck and she studied JJ’s face. “You’re okay, babe, all right? You’re fine. I’m right here.” 

“Yaz,” croaked JJ. She was starting to sound like herself again. The tide ebbed, and she dragged herself to shore, and Yaz was the outstretched hand that pulled her heavy body from the water at long last.

“It’s me. You’re safe.” 

But JJ still must have looked distraught, because then Yaz was sighing sadly and pulling her into her arms. Startled, JJ went stiff. Her hands hovered behind Yaz’s back as if they had no idea what to do with themselves. 

“You’re hugging me,” JJ stated, hearing but not caring how dumb she sounded. The only time Yaz and JJ had their arms around one another was if they were flirting or having sex. JJ knew not to seek comfort in Yaz’s arms, because typically she had none to offer. Not that she let on. 

“I am,” said Yaz. “Is that not okay?” 

Yaz started to pull away, only to be stopped when JJ encircled her tightly in her own embrace and dropped her head to her shoulder. She breathed Yaz in — that eternally familiar, lulling scent of imported perfume, shea butter; macadamia shampoo, and something else that was so intrinsically her. The leather of her jacket creaked when JJ held on tighter and she felt every rise and fall of her chest against her own. 

JJ exhaled deeply. Bad matter vacated her body in a long, invisible stream and dissipated into the mild night. Her lungs felt lighter; her head clearer. She might have liked to stay like that all night. 

Alas.

“Um, Jack said we should walk, so…” Yaz extricated herself from JJ’s hold and JJ was surprised all her bones didn’t fall out of place with Yaz no longer holding them all together. “Let’s walk, yeah? C’mon, take my hand.”

Together, they walked the streets of Paris. JJ’s jolted nerves gradually pacified as they made their way along wide, cobbled roads, passing lively beer gardens and people lazing with cigarettes and wine on balconies. Their path was illuminated by a warm orange glow oozing out through glass facades, which allowed for a glimpse into bustling bars and restaurants and the revelry within.

JJ was thankful for the cool breeze that picked up during their walk. She was thankful for Yaz, too. She was quiet and patient and she didn’t probe until JJ was a little more herself again. 

At that point, the streets had opened up and they found themselves walking along the Seine River. The Eiffel Tower glittered in the distance, and it scattered some of its bountiful, golden glitter across the still surface of the river like stars in the black — a night sky JJ was tempted to fall into; wrap around herself like a shawl, or else a shield. Better, she thought, not to ask Yaz to save her for a second time that night. 

“How you feeling?” asked Yaz; the first thing either of them had said in a while. 

“Better,” said JJ. “Much better.”

Yaz shook her head. “That guy in there was being a total dick. I can’t believe he pushed you,” she seethed. “Jack and Bill got to him before I did, but if I’d have been standing next to you when he did that—”

“I don’t want to talk about it, if that’s okay.”

“Sorry.” Yaz squeezed JJ’s hand but JJ could tell she was still angry, and part of her wished she hadn’t interrupted. What _would_ Yaz have done if she’d been standing there? Taken on a guy a full head taller than her? JJ wouldn’t put it past her. Somehow, the notion alone that she would do that for JJ’s sake — even after how she’d just betrayed her — was enough to strum a subdued smile from her lips. “So, can I ask about the street names? What were all that about?”

“Um.” JJ kicked a pebble into the water as they walked. “It’s sort of a — a grounding technique. Sometimes, when I get like that, it helps to do a little memory exercise. My usual go-to is to list the names of the streets I lived in when I were growin’ up.”

“You lived on all those streets?” frowned Yaz. “But you listed, like, a dozen different places.”

“I moved around a lot,” said JJ. They came to a wooden bench overlooking the river and sat down. Almost straight away, her leg began to bounce. 

“How come? Were your parents rich, worldly people, too?” Yaz quipped. 

“Um, no. Or, I dunno. I never knew ‘em.” Absently, JJ tapped the back of Yaz’s hand with her middle finger. This wasn’t something she discussed often or with any semblance of ease. “I spent most of my youth in the foster system. They tried to find me a home, they really did, but I never made it easy. I can be… well, y’know what I mean.”

“Actually, I don’t,” denied Yaz. She put a mollifying hand on JJ’s bouncing thigh until it went still, and then kept it there. “What do you mean?”

Yaz was good at helping with JJ’s shakes. Sometimes, JJ imagined that there were anaesthetics at Yaz’s fingertips and that, if she focused hard enough, she could feel a cool dispensation of tranquilisers soaking into her bloodstream beneath the point of contact, and she’d follow that feeling all the way to her central nervous system. 

Yaz was a barbiturate when she wanted to be; an amphetamine or an aphrodisiac when she didn’t. Either way, JJ was perpetually fixing for another hit.

Drunk and doped up on Yasmin Khan, JJ let her reservations roll like stones into the river and didn't try to catch them. “Well, I’ve never exactly been like other people. I know you’ve noticed. But, when I were younger…” The muscles in JJ’s cheeks flexed; she tried to figure out a nicer way to word it than was typically put to her. “I were a problem kid. I behaved in ways people didn’t understand, so they didn’t know how to handle me when I got — when I responded to situations in ways they didn’t expect me to.”

“Like when that guy started screaming at you?” asked Yaz. There was a gentle cadence to her voice that JJ wasn’t accustomed to coming from her. 

JJ nodded. “Sometimes, when people raise their voices at me, or when they get angry…” she struggled to finish around the fist-sized lump in her throat. Hopefully, context said the rest. 

“Jamie,” Yaz began — tentative in tone and demeanour, “has anyone ever hurt you?”

“It’s—” JJ’s jaw began to tremble— “I was difficult. I were a difficult kid.”

“That’s not what I asked, babe.”

JJ half wondered if it was too late to fish her reservations back out of the river. She had no idea how Yaz would react to the ugliness of JJ’s life. Thus far, she’d tried so hard only to show her the glamour and the riches and every joyous wonder she could. 

Her biggest architectural feat had been designing a front — an unblemished, cosmopolitan veneer — to hide all her damaged parts behind. But when Yaz saw the faulty foundations upon which it was built and the heartache like black mould staining her inside and out, there was no chance she’d want to put down roots somewhere like that. That was no place to build a home. No place to plan a future.

But then, Yaz never planned to do either of those things with her, anyway. What could it hurt to give her a tour before she left? JJ pulled at her suspenders like they were backpack straps and stared at her lap. 

“People haven’t always been kind to me, Yasmin,” she disclosed so quietly that it was a wonder it came across as anything but a susurration across the water. 

The bench creaked when Yaz tucked her ankle beneath her thigh and turned to face JJ. She rested a palm on the back of her neck and JJ leaned into the touch with eyes half-closed, tilting her head towards the sky. The moon grinned sideways at her. She didn’t have it in her to smile back. 

“I’m so sorry, JJ,” said Yaz, and the waver in her voice prompted JJ to turn her head. A film of glassy moisture clung to Yaz’s shining eyes. Even though she blinked it away, JJ was certain she hadn’t imagined it. Tears. Almost tears. _She does care_. “Is that also the reason you don’t like it when it’s too quiet? When there are silences you can’t fill?”

“It’s the reason for a lot of things,” confirmed JJ. The back of her neck tingled where Yaz stroked her finer hair. “I don’t like silences ‘cause it usually meant I’d done somethin’ wrong and I’d made people angry or shocked them. I’m a people pleaser ‘cause letting people down terrifies me. I don’t like tight situations there’s no way out of, like planes and rollercoasters, ‘cause in my experience only bad things happen in enclosed spaces. I like exit routes, escape plans; a way out.” A melancholy smile made itself at home on JJ’s face. “I used to run away all the time, y’know? Even from the nice ones.”

“Why’d you run from the nice ones?”

“They were all nice, Yasmin. Until they weren’t. Until they understood what I was.” She levelled Yaz with an uncustomarily solemn expression. “Where you just see my weird quirks, I see survival. It doesn’t go away, Yaz. That need to… to preempt anythin’ bad that can happen and try to prevent it any way y’can — it never goes away.”

“No wonder you wanted to be a Lost Boy so bad,” mumbled Yaz. Then, as soon as the words left her lips, her eyes went wide and she backtracked. “Sorry, that’s — I didn’t mean to make light of it. I just — I don’t even know what to say.”

JJ squeezed Yaz’s knee. “It’s okay. There’s not much _to_ say.”

“God, JJ,” sighed Yaz, “how did you survive that? I mean, how did you go from that to where you are now?”

“I met Jack,” smiled JJ, and this time the smile had teeth. The story changed, here; became not a tragedy but a tale of hope. “Must’ve been about fifteen. I’d just started my millionth high school. I were always the weird new kid, y’know, and this time it weren’t any different. People didn’t take to me very well. But one day, these kids were tryna pick on me in the playground and Jack stepped in. Made a whole thing of it. Everyone liked him, so they left me alone after that.”

“Who were you living with at the time?”

“Some bloke. He...” JJ waved a dismissive hand, swatting the question away. He was just one in a string of wrong turns JJ had been forced to take on her way to the right path. “Anyway, I spent most of my days at Jack’s. His family sorta took me in and then, after a while, they made it official. They didn’t have much to themselves — they’d just moved from middle-of-nothing America to build a new life — but they still made room for me.”

Jack’s childhood home was, though he had since moved his family somewhere far nicer, preserved in JJ’s mind as a safe space; somewhere to return to when her eyes were closed and the world beyond was not so forgiving.

She’d think about the red bricks, the small, overgrown garden; the garage they converted into their own getaway; the smell of hearty stew in the winter and hot dogs sizzling on the BBQ in the summer. They mapped out their whole intertwined lives at the end of that small close. 

“Sounds like he found you just in time,” mused Yaz. She was listening so intently, so considerately, and JJ was stunned at how easy she made it to open up about a part of her life she usually so fiercely guarded. 

“At first, I thought it were some kinda trick,” admitted JJ, lacing her fingers through the hand Yaz had let lie on her leg. “Took me a while to stop tryna run away from ‘em. They were so patient with me. More than anyone else I’d ever met. Since then, it’s always been me and Jack. We always said we’d make it, too. Out of spite, more than anythin’ — ‘cause fuck the lot of ‘em. Jack’s words. Obviously.”

Yaz smiled. “And, you did.”

“We did. We made it.” JJ was breathing easier again, now. If Yaz minded that she was fiddling with her hand, twisting her rings; running her fingertips over her knuckles — she didn’t say. “He’s my brother, Yaz. He’s family.”

“I never knew any of that. You always just seem so happy. So excited about everythin’.” Yaz’s focus flitted between every individual detail of JJ’s face. “You hide things well.” 

JJ shrugged. “So do you. That’s just not what this is, though, is it?” she remarked, not without regret. “Besides, it’s not like you’d be able to understand.” 

“You’re right, I can’t even imagine what you went through,” agreed Yaz. Her hand slipped from JJ’s neck as she looked out at the river with a small exhale. “But I do know what it’s like to be lonely, babe. That’s a pretty universal feeling. I can understand that.”

“You get lonely?”

“All the time.” 

“But you have a family. People who love you.”

“I don’t mean to be insensitive, JJ, but people can still be unhappy when they’re surrounded by family.”

“Why were you unhappy?”

JJ’s eyes were ready and waiting to catch Yaz’s when she turned her head. Yaz was liable to close off at a moment’s notice, but JJ had just shared so much. She didn’t expect anything in return — Yaz didn’t _owe_ her anything — but JJ hoped that she felt comfortable enough with her right now to at least realise that she was safe to open up around her. Nothing she said could change the way JJ saw her. 

“We don’t usually talk like this,” said Yaz.

“I know.” 

Yaz considered JJ for a handful of seconds, before she sat back against the bench and looked off towards the city. And maybe the twinkling Paris nightlife told her to take the plunge, or maybe she was still affectedly inebriated; or maybe she’d been needing to say these words for a while. Whatever the case, at long last, she let JJ get one foot in the door.

“A lot of people I trusted let me down when I were growing up. People have treated me poorly for one reason or another my whole life,” revealed Yaz. “But, I mean, it’s nothing like what you went through.”

“We don’t have to compare our sad stories, Yasmin.”

JJ worried she’d said the wrong thing or spoken too loud, because Yaz didn’t say a word for a long time after that; she only stared at the horizon with a set jaw. But JJ was patient with her. And it paid off.

“Y’know, the bullying I probably could have handled. All my friends turning on me? Fine. It’s high school. Shit happens. But I _tried_ to get help when I were at my lowest. I really bloody tried. Went to the school counsellor and told him what were going on, how people were treating me and how low I was, and d’you know what happened?” Yaz pulled away from JJ and leaned forwards with her elbows on her knees. JJ was tempted to put a hand on her back. She didn’t. “He told me the other girls were jealous ‘cos I were filling out so nicely. Said that, in a couple years’ time, I’d be…”

If JJ was supposed to be able to deduce the end to her sentence based on context, she was failing. “You’d be what?”

“I’d be bringing men everywhere to their knees,” Yaz recounted grimly. She looked as nauseated as JJ felt when she ducked her head to her chest and took a deep breath. “I were fifteen years old, Jamie. Pretty sure he were in his fifties. I mean, what a fucking pervert.”

JJ was scared to ask. Concern got the better of her. “Did he…”

“He put his hand on my leg and I broke his finger.” As though reminded of her strength by the recollection, Yaz sat up straighter and squared her shoulders. “He got fired, but that’s not the point. The point is that he taught me a valuable lesson about the reality of my life that day — about how people were gonna see me, and how they were gonna treat me, and what they were gonna wanna use me for. And he were right. My body changed, and so did everything else. Just not for the better. I still get treated like shit, JJ. It’s all I know anymore.”

With an awful pang, JJ realised that she now fell under that purview. Had she not treated her so lowly when she corralled her best friend into the restroom with every intention of screwing her? It was no wonder she was so sorely disappointed in JJ. Once again, she’d put her faith in someone who was supposed to be there for her.

Once again, she’d been let down. 

JJ desperately wanted to apologise, but she didn’t think now was the right moment. Yaz was talking to her. Properly. Bringing up Bill now would be akin to carefully enticing a stray cat closer and closer, only to make a loud noise right at the last second and send it skirting into the shadows. Yaz was not a jittery creature; her trust was.

“Anyway, once I realised my lot in life, I thought I might as well use it to my advantage,” Yaz went on. “If people were gonna see my body and nothing else — fine. Least I could make some money off it. Help my family.” With a gruff laugh, she slung her arm across the back of the bench and crossed her leg over her knee. The levity to her next words came out forced. “Guess we’re both a couple of entrepreneurs, eh?”

But JJ struggled to see the funny side. “It’s not right for you to be so sad.”

“I’m not sad, babe,” said Yaz. “Not anymore. Really. I’m used to it.”

“That’s _worse,_ Yasmin. So much worse. That feeling shouldn’t be something you get used to; you shouldn’t resign yourself to thinking you’re always gonna be less than,” urged JJ. She clasped one of Yaz’s hands in both of hers and held it like a firefly one couldn’t be certain they’d even caught until they loosened their hold and risked letting it go. “I was like that. I didn’t have any hope either, until I met Jack. But when I did — when I let him in — that’s when everything changed for me. That’s when I started to believe that I was worth more than people had led me to believe.”

“Babe—”

“I want that for you, Yasmin. I so badly want somebody to be a home to you.” JJ loosened her hold. Sure enough, Yaz’s hand slipped through the gaps. It drifted away, and it took its fire glow with it. In the low light, JJ languished. “Even if it can never be me.”

* * *

The four of them returned to the apartment that night bearing low spirits and heavy hearts. Bill made a hasty getaway to her room, and Jack did the same once he was convinced that JJ was okay. 

Whatever channel that had opened up between Yaz and JJ and allowed them to so freely exchange small pieces of themselves closed off the second they returned to the bedroom; obstructed by increased sobriety and the earlier events of the night.

In the darkness, they both dithered at either side of the bed.

“I think I’ll just take the sofa,” said Yaz.

“Please, don’t.”

“JJ, you can’t blame me for not wanting—”

“I’ll take it,” JJ offered eagerly, already reaching for her pillow. 

“No, you won’t.”

“Y’don’t have to take pity on me just ‘cause — look, it’s fine, I won’t be able to sleep without you either way.”

Silhouetted against the weak city lights seeping in through the drapes, Yaz’s face was hard to make out. She reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose and sighed. 

“Put the pillow down, Jamie.”

“But—”

“Just — let’s just go to bed, okay?”

“Both of us?”

“Both of us.”

With a shard of glee in her eyes she was sure Yaz wouldn’t be able to make out in the dark, JJ scrambled under the covers beside Yaz. Yaz lay with her back turned and JJ stared at the outline of her body. 

“Yaz?”

“JJ?”

“I know I apologised a thousand times on the way home, but I really am sorry. “

“I’m tired, babe. Let’s not do this, now.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“But, Jamie...”

“Yeah?”

“If — if anything happens in the night, if you need me, just wake me up. Okay?”

“Ah, I’ll be fine. Right as rain, me.”

“Promise me.”

“...I promise, Yaz. If I need you, I’ll wake you.”

But that wasn’t quite the truth. JJ was never not in need of Yaz, and that night their physical closeness was not enough to drive back her insomnia. Not when there was so much distance accumulating in other ways. Not when Yaz still hadn’t forgiven her; when JJ was still mentally replaying everything that had gone wrong at the bar starting with Yaz giving away her number and ending with JJ making mistake after mistake.

JJ was awake before the sun. 

All night, she’d been fretting; mulling over how to make things right again. Yaz wouldn’t respond to another thousand apologies; she wouldn’t respond to words because she didn’t trust them. JJ would have to make a gesture in a language Yaz understood. After reminding herself exactly what their entire relationship was based on, it was easy to devise a plan. 

Leaving Yaz to sleep through the sunrise, JJ slipped away to make a couple of phone calls and then went for a run. It was a long, hard run. She ran until every muscle burned and every breath felt like razor blades in her lungs and she kept running until all of that went numb. 

As per usual, she brought breakfast back with her from the bakery downstairs. There was a weird vibe in the apartment when she got back. Bill was keeping her distance from Yaz. Jack was making a valiant effort at inspiring conversation but none were very receptive. Yaz was being brusque with pretty much everyone. 

When JJ presented her with the berry and cream crepe she liked, she half expected it to end up in the bin. Instead, she earned a thin smile for her troubles and Yaz managed to at least pick at her food.

JJ knew there was a talk that needed to be had. A big, serious talk. However, because she was worried that she knew exactly how that talk was going to end, she decided to do her best to postpone it until after her grand gesture. So, over breakfast, she left them all to it, hopped in the shower, and started to get ready for the day she had planned. Yaz had just left to take a walk, which made things much easier. 

In keeping with the theme of the day’s itinerary, JJ wore a tastefully artistic button-up; plain save for a small, bright embroidery of Van Gogh’s _Sunflowers_ over the breast. She had a matching, sunflower-adorned pair of suspenders to go with the design, but before that, there was something else she needed to take care of. 

Dressed in only her shirt and socks, JJ rummaged around in her things until she located the crux of her bold plan. It wasn’t until after she’d fastened herself into the harness and pulled her trousers up over it that she realised her fatal error. 

Though she could just about nudge her zip all the way up, the bulge was still visible. Horrifyingly so. She was standing in front of the mirror, fruitlessly trying to angle the thing down, when the door swung open and Bill waltzed in. 

“Yo, JJ, have you seen my—”

“Bill!” cried JJ. She spun swiftly around and her hands flew to cover her crotch. “Don’t you _ever_ knock?”

“Oh, my god,” laughed Bill. “Are you hard packing?”

Back turned, JJ closed her eyes and prayed to whatever god was listening that this conversation would end before it even began. “Can you leave?”

“Is that your apology strap?” asked Bill. The gods refused to intervene. She closed the door behind her and took a few steps towards JJ.

“It’s — no, I—”

“Oh, shit. Are you gonna shag her in that museum?”

Bill evidently was not going to let this go. With a resigned sigh, JJ turned around and let her hands fall to her sides. “I can’t. Look at it! It’s too big. Too… hard.”

“Let’s have a look.”

“Seriously?”

“Come on, get it out. We’re all mates here, aren’t we?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Oi.”

Still, JJ was already mortified beyond belief. She didn’t see how it could get much worse. She unzipped her trousers and the purple shaft sprang out. It was a manageable size — one of their slightly more moderate ones. 

Bill hummed thoughtfully. “Hang about.” Without bothering to ask for permission, she opened up JJ’s wardrobe and proceeded to rifle through her clothes. After a moment, she pulled out a silk tie and walked back over. “Pull your trousers down a bit.”

“Bill, if Yaz walks in now—”

“Relax, she’s still on her walk! Do you want my help or not?”

With a healthy measure of reluctance, JJ lowered her trousers to just above her knees. She swore she left her body for just a second when Bill reached out to hold the strap. As soon as her fingers wrapped around it, Bill’s eyebrows shot to her hairline.

“Shit, what’s this made of? Clouds? It’s well soft. Bet it shags a dream, eh?” She grinned at JJ. “You rich folks and your luxury sex toys, honestly.”

If the earth were planning to swallow her whole, JJ thought, now would be an ideal time to do that. Bill wrapping her hand around her strap and remarking on its softness was certainly not a scenario she’d ever entertained, nor was it one she wished to ever have to endure again. 

“Y’know what, I change my mind, actually. I’m just gonna leave it,” said JJ.

“No, you don’t. Watch and learn, mate.” Bill held the toy town against the inside of JJ’s thigh and bound it tightly to her inner leg using JJ’s tie. She stood back looking well pleased with herself. “Try it now.”

JJ had never been more relieved than she was to pull her pants back up in that moment. She zipped herself up and glanced at the mirror. Not a trace in sight. 

She cleared her throat. “Um, thanks, Bill.”

“‘S’alright. She’s mad at me, too, remember?” Bill perched on the edge of the vanity with her arms crossed. “You do realise you’re not the only one in the wrong, though, don’t you? I’ve seen the way she acts around you, mate. It’s like you’re in an actual relationship, the way you two carry on with each other. It’s weird. If she’s leading you on—”

“She’s not. She made it clear how she feels about me; that she doesn’t want anything more serious.” JJ picked her suspenders up off the bed and clipped them on. She rolled up her shirtsleeves. She ruffled her hair. Exactly how Yaz liked it. JJ snapped her braces and nodded at herself in the mirror, before seeking out Bill in the reflection. “I am angry, Bill. But I think I have more cause to be angry with myself. I can’t be acting all jealous like that when she stipulated herself that she wanted to be able to see other people.”

“Yeah, not right in front of your face, though,” argued Bill. “Don’t you think it’s weird that she kisses you all the time? How affectionate she is with you, it’s — I dunno. I can’t make heads or tails of it.”

“Well,” started JJ, turning to face Bill, “I guess we’re gonna have to talk about it. I’ve been putting it off for a long time. I just worried that, if I said anything, she’d run away.”

“She still might.”

“Yeah. She might.”

Bill peeled off the desk with a small smile. “All right, Romeo, what’s the plan, then? You gonna top her?”

“Um—”

“She does respond to shows of strength, I’ll give you that,” granted Bill. “You ever topped anyone before?”

“I mean, yes. Sort of.”

“Ever topped Yaz?”

JJ scratched the side of her neck and said nothing.

“God, and going for it while she’s angry? You’ve got a pair on you, mate. Growing up right before my eyes — I’m so proud of you.” Amused, she looked JJ up and down. “Right, give us a walk.”

“Excuse me?”

“Go on, just walk to the balcony door. Gotta make sure your stride’s right, haven’t we?”

“Oh, for…” Feeling ridiculous the entire time, JJ walked from the wardrobe to the balcony and then looked expectantly at Bill. 

“You’re gonna give yourself away in a second like that,” reckoned Bill.

“It’s not exactly the most comfortable thing.”

Bill afforded her an unsympathetic shrug. “Neither is living in the dog house, mate. Suck it up and try again. Just pretend you can’t feel it.” 

“You’re enjoyin’ this.”

“Just a smidge.” 

Nevertheless, JJ crossed the room once more — this time, heeding Bill’s advice. 

“Good enough,” remarked Bill with a curt nod. “Don’t look any stranger than usual, at any rate.” 

“Appreciate that,” said JJ. She pulled her brogues out from under the bed and sat down to tie them on. She’d have been lying to say she wasn’t utilising every ounce of will she had on not chickening out. It was a brazen endeavour she was undertaking. She was liable to end up rejected, humiliated; scolded. She was liable to end up sleeping alone that night. It was a risk she had to take. Yaz was always worth the risk. 

“Christ, she’s defo not gonna expect this,” Bill stated. “Sure she ain’t just gonna eat you alive?”

“Maybe. I wanted to try doing somethin’ adventurous, for once,” explained JJ, lacing up her second shoe. “Somethin’ not boring. Thought it might help.”

“Thought it might help her forgive you, or thought it might help her stop looking at other birds?” wondered Bill. 

JJ sat up. “Both?”

The way JJ saw it, if she was able to give Yaz everything she needed — if she was able to satisfy her in every single way — there was no reason to be seeking out the company of other people. Sure, their arrangement was purely sexual. Did that have to mean it couldn’t be exclusive? JJ wanted to be the best for Yaz. She could be. She’d prove it.

“Fair play to you, JJ,” said Bill, though the tone of her voice suggested she wasn’t as confident in the plan as JJ was. “Now, if you need tips on how to properly satisfy—”

“Okay, nope, that’s enough.” JJ got up and started to usher Bill out of her room. 

“But—”

“I know how to use it, Bill!”

Bill cracked a smile once they got to the door. She gave JJ another once over and shook her head. “Oh, good luck, mate,” she offered. “Something tells me you might need it.” 

* * *

JJ’s plan almost fell apart before it even started. 

Once Yaz realised that it would just be the two of them visiting the Louvre, she was hesitant to go along. However, after a great deal of encouragement and several reassurances that it was an unmissable experience, she relented. It wasn’t as if she’d be spending the day with Bill, after all — so she had nothing better to do. It was a little disheartening to think that was her only reason for agreeing to join JJ, but she hoped that, once they arrived, her attitude would change.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t very heedful of JJ’s hopes. 

JJ’s enthusiasm failed to rub off on her as they walked across the courtyard towards the entrance and JJ excitedly explained that the museum had initially been built as a fortress back in the 12th century, and that once it had been home to several generations of kings. Yaz was even less interested in the architectural story of the Pyramid out front. Not a solid start. 

Refusing to let her spirits be dampened, JJ maintained her conviction that the innate romance of art and history would break her barriers down a little.

JJ showed Yaz the _Venus de Milo_ — an armless marble statue and a famous representation of the goddess Venus. What was more romantic than the goddess of love? Apparently, Yaz’s cuticles.

The _Mona Lisa_ was even less inspiring. The crowd around it was so thick and obnoxious that they scarcely got a glimpse of it before deciding to move on. 

Ancient sculptures, enormous, dramatic paintings; temporary exhibits that even JJ hadn’t seen before — she showed it all to Yaz and gushed about all of her favourite pieces interminably. Even when Yaz was interested in the artwork, she wasn’t much interested in JJ’s additions or anything she had to say. Still, JJ took it as a good sign that she didn’t actually put a stop to JJ’s rambling; simply let her get carried away with herself. That was a step in the right direction. 

It was also a small mercy to JJ, because she was so radically nervous that she didn’t think she’d be able to stop herself from rambling if she tried. In fact, she was so anxious and so eager to impress that, upon holding a door open for Yaz and hearing her extend a terse, “Thank you,” in return, she accidentally blurted out an apology. 

And though Yaz was obviously trying so hard not to show it, JJ thought she saw her purse her lips to hide a smile. But that was the extent of it. It was fast beginning to look like JJ’s plan was failing. 

That is, until a short while later. At long last, Yaz extended an inch of rope that JJ held on to with both hands.

“Tell me about this one,” she said, standing before a 16th century, metres wide painting which JJ definitely hadn’t banked on being the thing to open her up. 

“The Intervention of the Sabine Women,” JJ mumbled. She craned her neck to take it in. 

And she smiled. 

Really, she should have known that of all things, Yaz would be drawn to a painting depicting the bravery of everyday women caught up in the violence of a man’s world. It was just like Bill said: a show of strength. That’s what Yaz responded to; what she respected.

It was a much needed reminder to JJ that she’d been going about this all the wrong way. 

So, she effused about the painting with gusto; detailed the events that led to the famous episode in Roman history and the successive intervention of the wronged women. For the first time all day, Yaz was sincerely intrigued. She was hanging from her every word. Emboldened, JJ came up behind Yaz and put her hand on her shoulder as she talked. 

When she not-so-accidentally allowed Yaz’s hand to nudge her thigh, she pretended not to notice the way her head spun around and her eyes went wide. JJ didn’t tear her eyes from the painting until she finished raving about it. When she did, she looked at Yaz.

Yaz was searching her intently; her shock might as well have been a visible aura around her. It was rare — and so, so delicious — when JJ was able to catch Yaz off guard. Priceless. More so than anything hanging in the Louvre right then. And she wasn’t done there. 

“Y’know, there’s a quote by the artist that I quite like. Usually apply it to my own designs, but it can be related to a lot of things, really,” JJ began. “It goes: ‘If the work is poor, the public taste will soon do it justice. And the author, reaping neither glory nor fortune, will learn by _hard_ experience—” JJ took a step deeper into Yaz’s personal space— “how to correct his mistakes’.”

Yaz’s eyes flitted below JJ’s waist and then sprang back up. “JJ, are you…”

“Let me correct my mistakes, Yasmin.” 

JJ backed Yaz up, slow and exhilaratingly tense. After a few backwards steps, Yaz apparently decided she wasn’t going to be driven back by the likes of JJ. She planted her feet firmly and allowed JJ to close the remaining space between them. With little regard to the other people in the gallery, JJ cupped Yaz’s face and leaned in. 

Her advance was stopped when Yaz whispered, “Who are you tryna be, Jamie?”

“Whoever you want me to be.”

“This isn’t you.”

“How would you know?” JJ pulled her lower lip between her teeth and glanced at Yaz’s mouth. “You have no idea about the lengths I’d go to for you, Yaz. You haven’t got a clue.”

This time, when JJ encroached upon the last sliver of needless space separating their mouths, Yaz didn’t stop her — although the furrow in her brow betrayed her surprise at the turn of events. Regardless, she reciprocated the kiss; closed her eyes after a moment and let her hands wander to JJ’s hips. 

JJ liked kissing in museums. 

It was a public space, yes, but it was also a home to art, and so much art was bred from desire and longing and the uniting of souls and bodies that it seemed fitting — necessary, even — to display one’s passion as an exhibit when the urge so struck. 

Backdropped by a violent masterpiece depicting two warring sides and the woman who stood between them to offer herself as martyr (as was the story of JJ’s heart, which martyred itself daily in the battle between her depth of devotion for Yaz and Yaz’s unfailing rejection of it), they kissed like lovers. Or warriors. Or both. 

When they eventually pulled apart, Yaz still looked confused. 

“Come with me,” breathed JJ, believing that she’d won her over. Succeeded. 

It seemed she’d jumped the gun. Yaz deliberated. She let JJ’s hands fall to her sides when she took a slight step back, and then all her confusion capitulated beneath a newly toughened exterior.

“Nah.”

Like a burning torch, she passed her confusion to JJ. “What?”

Yaz shrugged, suddenly cocksure and right back on top. “I’m not done looking.”

“But — but you’ve barely shown an interest in anythin’ all day!” JJ pointed out. 

Brushing past JJ, Yaz strolled into the next room and hooked her thumbs through the belt loops of her shorts — followed immediately by JJ. “Thought I might actually go back the way we came; take a second look at what we’ve seen. They do say you see things differently the second time around, don’t they?”

“Yasmin.”

Yaz turned on her heels. “Jamie.” She stepped up to her and her face was unreadable. “What, babe? You really think it’s that easy? You think I am?”

“No, I—”

“Excuse me?” said Yaz, calling the attention of the nearby guard. “This woman’s bothering me.”

When the guard approached, JJ almost laughed. “All right, Luc?” she greeted, giving him a warm handshake. “How’re the kids?”

“JJ! It’s been so long!” 

Yaz’s face fell. What JJ had failed to mention was that she was a long time visitor of the Louvre and had, on many an occasion, donated to the museum and made every effort to be friendly with the staff, from the security guards and the janitors to the curators and the board members. 

She proceeded to engage in a jovial conversation with Luc entirely in French. This, she noticed, elicited a visible reaction from Yaz. Maybe she ought to have pulled the French card sooner.

“Actually, mate,” she said after a time, “I called ahead this mornin’. Not sure if anyone told you—”

“Yes! A room. Not to be disturbed, I hear,” Luc winked knowingly. “Are you ready?”

Bravely, JJ didn’t wait for Yaz to answer. She took her hand and said, “We’re ready.”

Surprisingly, Yaz didn’t object.

Chatting merrily the whole time, Luc led them upstairs and down a long hallway. When they reached a heavy wooden door at the end of the corridor, he unclasped the red rope and waved them through with a grin. JJ tipped him generously, and they headed inside.

The door opened up to a large, sunlit office of dark wood, tall bookcases, and carefully tended potted plants. A grand, mahogany desk occupied one side of the room. Between two windows overlooking the courtyard and the Pyramid far below sat an emerald velvet, chaise lounge. Delicately detailed lamp shades hung from overhead fixtures, but the natural light in the room was more than enough to be getting on with. 

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, JJ felt some of her bravado wane. She applied her utmost effort at hiding just how wracked by nerves she was. If she showed weakness, Yaz would pounce.

JJ popped the top button of her open shirt upon approaching Yaz — who stood in the middle of the room with a nigh on entertained air of curiosity, no doubt wondering what JJ intended to do next. JJ was wondering the exact same thing. It was a miracle she’d gotten so far. 

“What’s the plan, JJ?” asked Yaz, amused. “Have you even got one?”

Coming to a stop right in front of Yaz, JJ just about managed to retain her composure as she pinched Yaz’s chin lightly between thumb and forefinger, tilted her head, and kissed her. 

The kiss was a power struggle. Both of them were trying stubbornly to domineer the other, but JJ couldn’t let Yaz win. Not this time. She backed her up until her thighs hit something solid. Shortly breaking from the kiss, JJ lifted Yaz up onto the desk and proceeded to unbutton her blouse while the kiss intensified until it bordered on angry.

But Yaz was never going to make this easy. As soon as her shirt came open and JJ slid a hand up her body towards her bra, Yaz grabbed her wrist and broke away from the kiss. 

“I call the shots, babe,” she panted. “Remember?”

It took a great deal of restraint to keep her voice level when JJ came back with a cool, “Sure. But not right now, Yaz.”

Yaz narrowed her eyes. “Y’know, this was cute, to begin with. I’m actually proud of you for making it this far without stuttering, babe. And a private suite at the Louvre’s fairly impressive — if a touch theatrical.” Yaz flashed a disquieting smile and lightly scratched the skin at the back of JJ’s neck. That was cruel. She knew what that did to JJ. “But we both know I don’t let people control me, babe. Especially not right now.”

“I’m not tryna control you,” objected JJ. “I’m tryna take care of you. _Let_ me.” Following a brief, silent standoff JJ wasn’t sure who was coming out on top of, she glanced at the littered desk behind Yaz. “Um — gimme a sec.”

Ruefully removing herself from between Yaz’s legs, JJ rounded the desk and proceeded to painstakingly clear it, placing things into drawers or setting them aside on top of cabinets and shelves. She did realise that, were this a movie (of if it were Yaz), the clutter would end up being recklessly swept to one side in a demonstration of unquellable lust. But JJ was a long time friend and guest of the museum. It wouldn’t be proper.

In an effort to rile JJ, Yaz faked a yawn and pretended to check the time on her watch. JJ worked a little faster. Once the desk was cleared, she circled back around and repositioned herself between Yaz’s knees. Yaz was leaning back on her palms with a smirk. She still didn’t think JJ had it in her — that much was obvious. 

Surging forwards, JJ kissed Yaz. Then, utilising the window of opportunity opened up by her successive moment of shock, she pushed her carefully onto her back. Yaz’s hands were in JJ’s hair and JJ’s hands were running all over Yaz’s body. 

After forcing her bra up her chest, JJ peeled away from Yaz’s lips and took a nipple into her mouth. She massaged the other between two fingers; it grew hard beneath her touch. JJ sighed against the peak of Yaz’s breast. When she jerked a nipple roughly, the hand in her hair tightened considerably. JJ refused to wince. No weakness. 

Instead, she crouched down and yanked Yaz’s trainers off. When she got back to her feet, she reached for Yaz’s shorts. Yaz had other ideas.

“Let’s see it, first.” 

“What?” 

Yaz nodded at JJ’s crotch. “I wanna know if it’s worth it.” 

“Trust me, it will be.” JJ attempted to recapture Yaz’s lips, only for her to lean back at the last second. 

“Show me,” repeated Yaz. The look on her face screamed danger, but JJ was nothing if not tempted by big red buttons she wasn’t supposed to press. And with Yaz, the cautions were endless. 

Without breaking eye contact, JJ tugged off her suspenders and unzipped her trousers. It was the only sound in the room. Only when JJ reached into her pants and tugged the tie loose, prompting the toy to spring free, did Yaz’s eyes fall. She cocked her head.

“It’s not our biggest, babe, is it?” she drawled.

“Well, I — I had to be able to hide it.” JJ cursed herself for stammering. How was Yaz getting the best of her already?

Yaz pulled her bra back down and slid off the desk. JJ was beginning to think it was over, until Yaz reached into JJ’s pockets. She simpered when her hand closed around that which she had been searching for. 

“Always come prepared, don’t you?” She pulled out the small bottle of lube. When she read the label, she laughed. “Flavoured?”

“It was the only—”

“What, were you expecting me to get on my knees for you, babe?” asked Yaz, slowly backing JJ up. “Thought I’d put it in my mouth if it tasted like cherries?”

“No. Never,” JJ denied. Her throat had gone tight all of a sudden. She felt herself losing the upper hand with every small, frightened step backwards. Or maybe she never had it to begin with. JJ’s calves collided with the seat of the chaise lounge and Yaz squeezed a dollop of lube onto her palm. 

“Sit down, babe.”

“Yaz—”

“I said, sit down.”

As if there were invisible hands forcing her down by her shoulders, JJ sat down. Yaz bent over her and began to stroke the lube onto the strap. JJ couldn’t help but bite her lip at the way it looked. Noticing how affected JJ was — because she noticed everything — Yaz lifted her hand to JJ’s mouth. 

“Open.”

Surrendering to her loss of sovereignty, JJ parted her lips and Yaz slid her fingers along the length of her tongue. JJ closed her mouth around them and sucked them clean. Afterwards, Yaz kissed her. Sweet on the palette and so incredibly sinister. 

The moment Yaz relinquished her mouth and stood up straight, shrugging her blouse off her back, JJ held her by her thighs and endowed warm, wet kisses upon her stomach. She lowered them until her lips brushed over the rough denim of her shorts. Silently seeking consent from Yaz, who nodded her approval, JJ unbuttoned the shorts and slid them down her legs right alongside her underwear. 

Except, when JJ ducked her head as if to ravenously procure a taste of her favourite dish, Yaz pushed her back by her forehead. “No chance. You enjoy that way too much,” proclaimed Yaz. “Sit back.” 

Somewhat disheartened at being denied, JJ sat against the siderest of the lounge and stretched her legs across the length of the seat — which was graciously wide enough to accommodate them both when Yaz climbed on top and straddled JJ’s lap wearing nothing but her bra. JJ didn’t think there was ever a time she wasn’t blown away by the sight of Yaz like that. Naked. On top. In charge. 

Powerful.

Even if JJ’s initial plan _was_ in shreds.

Yaz dug her fingers into JJ’s shoulders — no doubt with the intent to leave deep grooves behind — while JJ lined the toy up with her entrance and licked her lips all the while. Head tilted skyward, eyes half closed, Yaz lowered herself onto the shaft. 

“Fuck,” muttered JJ. 

Not even divine intervention could have compelled her to look away then — as the glistening toy disappeared, centimetre by centimetre, inside of Yaz. Yaz’s tight hold on her shoulders loosened once JJ was fully sheathed inside her. She sighed into JJ’s ear and drew back. 

“Now, you’re just gonna sit there let me use you, okay? Just sit and watch, babe,” commanded Yaz in a softer-than-cotton tone. 

JJ looked physically pained. “How can I just sit here when you’re lookin’ like that?”

“Because I told you to.”

And with that, Yaz’s fun began. She started to ride JJ, picking up the pace every time she lowered herself back onto the toy. She threaded her hands through JJ’s hair and JJ, obediently, let hers lie uselessly at her sides — balled into frustrated fists though they were. Never did Yaz seem colder than when she asked JJ to sit idly by while she got herself off. 

Soon, Yaz was slamming into her and the wet smack that coincided with every impact filled the room. That, and Yaz’s moans, gasps, curses. 

JJ was humiliated that her plan had gone so poorly, but she was so turned on and transfixed by the sight between Yaz’s thighs that her disgrace was escorted onto the back burner. She was being wholeheartedly used, and she’d offer herself up time and time again if only to bear witness to Yaz’s unholy ecstasy. 

On total supremacy, Yaz thrived. 

On Yaz, JJ thrived.

“Christ, you look incredible, Yasmin,” she lauded under her breath. 

Feeling unprecedentedly valorous, JJ thrusted her hips. Slow and slight, to begin with. Hardly enough to notice it was happening. Rather than stop her, which is what JJ expected her to do, Yaz grunted and dropped her forehead to JJ’s shoulder. Galvanised, JJ pressed on with zeal. She thrusted faster and harder and Yaz moaned into her neck; fingers knotting in her hair. 

“Please lemme touch you,” JJ beseeched into Yaz’s ear. “Please.”

Lifting her head, Yaz peered down at JJ through half-lidded eyes — which were no less black for it. JJ pleaded with her eyes alone. After a moment, Yaz reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. JJ grinned. The second Yaz peeled the bra off her body, JJ attached her mouth to a breast. Her hips kept up a steady rhythm all the while and she drove repeatedly into the tight squeeze of Yaz, humming blissfully around the hard nub at her lips. 

The very idea that she was inside of Yaz, that she was filling her and fucking her and that she was responsible for the breathy, barely restrained sounds coming out of her mouth, made her gut ache with want. But this wasn’t about her.

JJ tugged a nipple gently between her teeth and swirled her tongue around it. And then she began to suck harder, thrust deeper, because she sorely wanted Yaz to lose her restraint. She must have been holding back, and JJ was keen to hear the effect she was having. She wanted Yaz to moan JJ’s name, tell her how good she was; she wanted her to let go and forget all about control. 

Upon chancing a look down, JJ swore. Or said Yaz’s name. Or maybe she didn’t say anything — it was impossible to tell amidst the rapture of witnessing both Yaz and the toy glistening and pushing in tandem against one another.

Sharply and without warning, Yaz yanked JJ’s head back by her hair. She thought Yaz might be leaning in to kiss her, but instead she went for the jugular. The scrape of teeth against her skin and the smarting pain at her scalp and the way the toy dug into her with every rapid motion concocted a maddening cocktail of senses and JJ was so aroused it should have been illegal.

Through the opaque plume of smoke rising from the raging fire in her gut, JJ glimpsed the notion that Yaz was only doing this because she wanted to build a pressure inside of JJ that she didn’t intend to let her release. But JJ couldn’t find it in herself to care. 

She grabbed Yaz’s waist; jerked her hips. Yaz grunted and bit down on her throat, so JJ continued on in that angle. If the following groan Yaz made against her skin was anything to go by, she’d found the sweet spot she’d been searching for. JJ held Yaz firm while she pounded into her and Yaz was fast slipping from her throne, usurped amidst a most dogged attack. 

“Fuck, JJ,” she rasped. 

JJ’s grin was lopsided; a little manic. This was a lot closer to what she’d intended. She’d never be sorry enough for what she did, and there was no making it right, but if she showed Yaz how adventurous and bold and committed to her she was, maybe Yaz would be able to forgive her. Not only that, maybe she’d see how things could be if she chose JJ. If she chose to stay. 

JJ wasn’t much of a bragger, but she couldn’t imagine anyone else had ever fucked Yaz in the Louvre whilst the glass Pyramid below caught the sun and winked at them through the window. 

She couldn’t imagine, either, that anyone else had been so absolute in their desire for Yaz. People probably fell for her all the time, but how could any of their limerences rival the enormity of what JJ felt for her? At times, she felt it like a swelling lead balloon in her chest — splintering her ribs and bulldozing her vital organs with each new day that it grew in size. 

Perhaps it was this lead balloon that enabled her to be so audacious. 

JJ stilled her hips. 

Still panting heavily, Yaz frowned at her. “What are you—”

“Desk.”

Yaz arched a brow but JJ didn’t even blink. Rather, she raised her own brows in turn. 

“Full of surprises, lately, aren’t you?” remarked Yaz. Even so, she climbed out of JJ’s lap and JJ was more than a little smug about it when she followed her towards the desk. Coming up from behind Yaz, she held her by her hips and kissed her neck. She deliberately nudged the tip of the shaft against Yaz and, when she felt her body tense, curled her lips playfully against her skin. 

“Jamie.”

“Mm?” JJ lilted innocently.

But JJ wasn’t as adept at making people wait as Yaz was; nor did she have any desire to be. This was all for Yaz, at the end of the day. She didn’t want her thinking she’d forgotten. So, she pressed a palm to Yaz’s back and eased her down until she was bent over the desk. The lead balloon tripled in size. It winded JJ.

She’d never had Yaz bent over for her before — and what a sight to behold. JJ did her best to keep it together as she lined the toy up, put a hand on Yaz’s shoulder, and slid in. She watched Yaz’s fingers curl tighter in on themselves the deeper she sank, but at this point there was little friction; the silicone submerged itself entirely inside of Yaz with ease. If she’d been expecting a reaction from Yaz when her pelvis was finally pressed flush against her backside — a moan or a sigh or a small scrap of praise — she’d have been disappointed. 

“Y’okay?” checked JJ.

“Just keep going, babe.”

Fortunately for both of them, JJ hadn’t been lying when she told Bill she knew what she was doing. It didn’t take a dominant personality to know how to use a strap, and JJ had long since acquainted herself with just about every means under the sun there was to please a woman. 

JJ pulled almost all the way out and then drove straight back in with a soft grunt. The desk rattled excessively as she found her rhythm again, holding Yaz in place by her ribs, and it didn’t take long for Yaz to stop holding back her moans — guttural, percussive things that crawled out of her throat before Yaz could recover the sense to clamp her teeth shut and break their necks.

Leaning over Yaz until she was panting right into her ear, JJ reached under her and firmly groped a breast. She twisted a nipple and Yaz hissed through gritted teeth, dropping her forehead to the desk and gripping the lip of the wood for life. 

“God, Yaz, this feels like a dream,” JJ crooned against her cheek. She was fully clothed and had Yaz naked, bent over, and taking her from behind. And now she was gasping her name. 

All of this, even more sublime than she ever dared imagine; so utterly unreal. It was a fever dream she never wanted to emerge, healthy and lucid, on the other side of. She’d take an eternity of cold sweats and shivering bones for a single second more of this. Power and control were not elements right now.

Only union. 

Just as soon as she thought as much, giving JJ further cause to think that Yaz was somehow tuned into the frequency of her thoughts or else they both just had the same one, Yaz lifted herself up onto her forearms with a strained grunt and began to thrust backwards against JJ. 

She rammed into her so fervently and with so much force that JJ’s efforts at maintaining her own pace became redundant in no time at all. Before long, all JJ could do was hold Yaz’s hips while she rode her and attempt to keep from short circuiting every time her backside collided roughly with her pelvis. 

“ _Fuck_ — y’don’t make this easy,” said JJ. 

“If you want easy, babe,” breathed Yaz, “you’re in the wrong place. Hand?”

“Wh—”

“Gimme your hand.”

JJ offered her hand to Yaz, who led it between the front of her thighs. Yaz was swollen and throbbing and so wet it was unhinging and when JJ’s fingers found home, they both knew she needed no more guidance than that.

Applying a firm, focused secondary pressure, JJ bent over Yaz and ran her tongue along her neck. She sucked the lobe of her ear with fierce diligence; and then applied the same such diligence to the tender flesh a few centimetres below. Every time Yaz rocked furiously into her, JJ’s teeth nipped her flesh and her clipped nails buried themselves deeper into her smooth skin, threatening to break it like porcelain. 

It got to the point that JJ had to straighten back up and spread her feet to maintain her balance, keeping one hand on Yaz’s shoulder and one on her waist. She accommodated Yaz with only the most minor propulsions of her hips to keep the toy properly angled and sheathed at all times.

JJ blew out her cheeks; awed as ever by Yaz’s sheer stamina and untempered ferocity. “I really wish y’could see yourself right now, Yasmin,” she sighed. “You look....”

Were her eloquence not being pulverised into fine sand and rubble with each slam of their bodies, JJ would be able to tell Yaz that she looked as if she ought to be displayed front and centre in the Louvre. The linchpin of the collection. A siren-call to goggle-eyed tourists and staggered critics unable to find fault or flaw and begging, on hands and knees, to meet her creator. Or their own — for what more in life would one bother waiting for after laying eyes on a genuine miracle?

If each of Yaz’s throaty moans and fragmented gasps were not so totally eradicating JJ’s ability to articulate a thing, she’d tell her that she’d tear the _Mona Lisa_ to ribbons with her bare hands for her, because to call itself anything remotely resembling art in while it hung beside Yaz was sacrilege. She’d smash Venus to rocks and grind each fragment into dust for daring to proclaim herself a goddess in Yaz’s presence. 

If Yaz complained of a chill, JJ would burn the whole museum down: all its history, its stories; its wonders. She’d allow Yaz to warm her cold bones in the flames of her butchery, and all the world would only be able to applaud as they looked on and saw how Yaz’s face — in the firelight of ungodly ruin — became a glowing tapestry of earthy browns, heavenly golds, and perfect ivory when she bared her teeth in the crooked laughter of a devious conqueror. But what willing slaves to her rule. 

There was no art, no music; no culture; no love nor hate nor worship, without Yasmin Khan. JJ would bow before her. Paris would kneel. The whole world would fall at her feet. 

And JJ would say all of this to her. If only she could.

Instead, she tried to make use of her tongue in a different way and leaned over Yaz to seek out a kiss. JJ cupped Yaz’s jaw and turned her head towards her, but it was messy and misdirected and Yaz kept biting down; whether intentionally or otherwise JJ couldn’t speculate. In the end, she let her lips hang open against Yaz’s cheek and increased the exertion of her fingers against the pulsing bud of Yaz’s nerves. Tighter and harder and generously ruthless. It was really the only thing she could do. 

Theoretically, she could try to overpower Yaz; slam into her and hold her down and remind her that this was a gift and that she shouldn’t be lifting a finger. Yaz wouldn’t see it as a gift. She’d see it as defeat. Besides, JJ wouldn’t stand a chance at overpowering Yaz. 

Least of all after she said things like, “Jamie — _fuck_ — you feel so good,” following a string of gasped curses and further shards of praise that lodged themselves in JJ’s gut. 

JJ watched the way Yaz’s back arced; followed the notches of her curved spine all the way to her shoulder muscles, which writhed beneath her skin and betrayed the intensity of her delirium. Against the defined, jutting blades of Yaz’s shoulder, JJ pressed a kiss. They were so sharp JJ swore they could have sliced into the soft flesh of her lip and she wouldn’t have minded in the slightest.

At this point, JJ’s fingers were but a blur between Yaz’s thighs. She was beginning to tremble beneath her; JJ wondered what Yaz would think were she to lick the perspiration from every inch of her skin. 

“Keep going,” urged Yaz; half whisper, half moan. “Keep going, JJ. Don’t stop. _Fuck._ ” 

Yaz’s drive began to falter under the weight of her amassing pleasure, so JJ took it upon herself to pick up the slack, slamming into her with revived vigour while her fingers worked furiously at her clit. Yaz dropped her chin to her chest with a whimper so quiet JJ almost missed it. But she didn’t. And it only spurred her on. Tenacious, she rode Yaz deeper, harder; she rode her breathless and weak — subservient to her own euphoria.

“Jamie…” Yaz gasped.

“Come, Yasmin,” grunted JJ. “Please. Please come.” 

Yaz’s whole body stiffened in anticipation and then seized up with release. Yaz clenched around the strap and fluttered against the flat of JJ’s fingers. She swore so filthily that JJ could physically feel the words crawling under her skin and nesting there, where they would no doubt come to haunt her in the most glorious of ways when she was alone and aching and dreaming of ruin. 

JJ didn’t cease until Yaz’s body told her to in the loosening of limbs; in the way she slumped against the desk, exhaling deeply, and muttered something JJ didn’t catch. JJ slowed to a stop. Only incensed heartbeats and irregular breathing punctuated the following moment of stillness. 

Reeling, JJ wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She was still inside Yaz and, by looks of things, Yaz wasn’t quite inside of herself. 

“You all right?” asked JJ. 

Yaz nodded without lifting her head. 

“D’you fancy some water, or — actually, I can probably ask Luc to fetch us—”

“Maybe you should just get out of me, first, babe,” proposed Yaz. 

“Right, sorry.” JJ pulled out of Yaz and opted to neglect the thing that happened in the base of her gut at the sight and sound the motion made. She grabbed a box of tissues and wiped herself clean, handing them over to Yaz once she’d pulled herself up. “Probably best to find a — a restroom or somethin’ when we leave.”

After wiping down, Yaz headed for her clothes without saying anything. JJ tracked her with her eyes and ambled after her. 

“Um, was that — did you—”

Yaz laughed while she pulled her shorts on. “Don’t ruin it by talking, JJ. Here.” She picked JJ’s tie up off the floor and handed it over. 

“Just wanna make sure you enjoyed yourself,” confessed JJ, tying the strap against her thigh and zipping herself back up. When she looked up to see Yaz slipping her bra back on, she rushed over to help her with the clasp. 

“I’d tell you if I didn’t, babe.” Yaz held her hair out of the way while JJ fastened her up. “You know that.”

“Well, then I’m glad,” smiled JJ, picking Yaz’s shirt up off the floor and handing it over.

Yaz eyed JJ as she buttoned herself up and JJ, not knowing what to make of the strange look on her face, rocked awkwardly on her heels with her hands behind her back. She might have just screwed Yaz senseless (or, rather, watched while Yaz screwed herself senseless), but the air between them was still decidedly yet to clear. If anything, it was murkier. Heavier on their shoulders. 

“Y’know, I don’t usually let people do that,” said Yaz.

“I don’t think there were any ‘let’ about it,” JJ refuted, although she’d have been lying to say she wasn’t feeling particularly pleased with herself. Yaz made an exception. For JJ. That had to mean something, didn’t it? She took a deep breath. “Look, Yaz, about last night—”

“Tell me why you did it,” interrupted Yaz, albeit in a far more placid tone than JJ had expected. She reached for her trainers. “Don’t give me any bullshit or excuses, just tell me why you did it.”

Carding a hand through her hair, JJ slumped down onto the lounge with a sigh. “Uh, ‘cause I’m an idiot?” She twisted a cufflink while Yaz rested a foot on the edge of the lounge to tie her laces. “I dunno, Yaz. I saw you givin’ your number to that girl and somethin’ inside me just snapped. It really hurt me, Yasmin.” 

“I’d have told you it were a fake number,” Yaz claimed without looking up from her trainers.

“Would you, though?” JJ leaned forwards. “Can I ask, why’d you even do it? Give her a fake number, I mean. Why not just tell her no? You knew I were standin’ right there. What was I s’posed to think?”

Yaz swapped her left foot out for her right and glanced briefly at JJ. “You don’t read body language very well, do you, babe?”

“What d’you mean?”

“It’s…” Yaz sighed her frustration when she messed up the knot, tugging her laces loose again with impatient fingers. “It’s nothing. I — I actually knew her. Don’t think she remembered me, or maybe she just didn’t recognise me, but she went to my school. She wasn't a nice person, JJ. I were uncomfortable. Sorta thought maybe you’d… anyway, it’s daft.” 

_Oh._

“You wanted me to save you?”

“I don’t need saving. Ever,” snapped Yaz. She dropped her foot and scratched her eyebrow with one hand on her hip. She had better control over her temperament when she spoke next. “I just forget how you are sometimes. You don’t pick up on things like that. It’s not your fault.”

JJ sagged back against the siderest, enfeebled by guilt. Yaz had needed JJ’s help. Instead, she’d stuck a knife in her back and added insult to injury. “I’m so sorry, Yaz,” she breathed.

“Whatever.” Yaz sat down beside JJ without looking at her. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“Not just for that,” clarified JJ. “I care so much about you, Yasmin, and I never meant to upset you. But in that moment, I just saw red. I was angry and hurt and — and nobody was listening to me. Nobody ever listens to me because they don’t believe that I know what’s best for me, or that I can make decisions for myself. All the time, you’re telling me that what I feel for you isn’t real. That I’m wrong. I’m not blaming you for what I did, but I think maybe… maybe you got knocked down off your pedestal a little bit.”

At that, Yaz’s head snapped to the side and she frowned at JJ.

“And I didn’t like it. I like you up there where you’re perfect and irreproachable, but that’s not fair to you,” JJ divulged, wringing her hands. “It means you have to live up to an ideal that doesn’t exist. I should have realised that sooner. I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot since you told me. I were up all night just… goin’ over it in my head.”

“What are you saying?” asked Yaz.

“I’m sayin’ that I still worship you, Yaz. I probably always will. But I’m also willin’ to accept that you’re not perfect, and I’m still willin’ to lo — um, to look past that anyway.” If Yaz picked up on JJ’s near Freudian slip, she couldn’t tell by the inscrutable expression on her face. JJ pressed on and prayed it had flown under the radar. “But that’s only if you’re able to accept that I’m not perfect, either. ‘Cause I’m not. I’m sorry for what I did, but all I can do is promise to try and be better from now on. And if y’want me to promise you somethin’ else, then I will. Whatever it is. Y’know you only have to ask. I’ll buy it or I’ll make it or I’ll invent it. Anythin’ for you.”

Yaz mulled JJ’s offer over. Leaning against the backrest beside her, she picked one of her hands up and entwined their fingers. “There are two things I need from you, babe.”

“What are they?”

A pause. Yaz turned her head until she and JJ were all but nose to nose. “We keep hurting each other, JJ, don’t we? And I think, even though you don’t say it, that I hurt you a lot more than you hurt me. I don’t want that. Believe me.”

JJ’s body turned cold. Not even the anaesthetics at Yaz’s fingertips were enough to numb the snowballing dread inside of her. It sounded a lot like she was about to end things for good.

“When we get back from Paris, I think we should cool things off for a while. I think we should try and see some other people.” 

“I can’t.” JJ whipped her hand out of Yaz’s. “I could never—”

“Please, JJ. Try. For me,” beseeched Yaz. “You’re way too into this, and maybe that’s on me. I’ve not been very good at putting up boundaries. It’s just — I like spending time with you. We have a lot of fun. But lately, it’s started to feel like more misery than it’s worth.”

That was where they differed. In JJ’s eyes, Yaz was worth all her thousand miseries and more. In Yaz’s eyes, JJ wasn’t worth a single one.

“I’m not calling things off, babe,” assured Yaz. She squeezed JJ’s knee. “I’m actually tryna help you.”

“What happened to only looking out for number one?” croaked JJ.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m doing that, too. You fucked up, Jamie. It was petty and cruel and I hate that I even cared.” Yaz smiled sadly. “But I only cared because I let you get under my skin. I normally know better than that, but you… anyway, we both need the time apart. We both need to see other people, I think, and remember who we are to each other.” 

JJ wasn’t positive, but it sounded a lot like Yaz was confessing to feeling more for JJ than just lust. Had JJ somehow slipped past her barriers? Did she affect Yaz like Yaz affected her? It was all JJ had been waiting to hear — but not like this. Not if it meant she was losing her.

“Why can’t you just let yourself have this?” JJ wrapped her hand around the side of Yaz’s neck. “Why d’you have to run from it?”

“Christ, JJ, look at the reality of our situation. Look at where I am in my life and where you are in yours. We don’t work. Your whole five year plan thing — where do I fit in all that? I don’t. I’m a distraction. You go gallivanting around the world with me when you should be working and building your business, wasting your money and your time like it’s nothing. But it’s not. You’re brilliant, Jamie. You’re _something._ And you’re not even close to done. But soon enough, there’s not gonna be any room for my name on your soggy napkins and pizza boxes.”

“There’s _always_ room for you, Yasmin,” insisted JJ. “None of that other stuff matters. I can rewrite my plan, if I need to.”

“Don’t.” Yaz dropped her eyes to her lap and hung her head. “Look, it might not feel like it now, but you’re gonna outgrow me. If you haven’t already. All I’m doing is making sure that, when that time comes, both of us are ready for it.”

“But I—”

“This is what I want going forward, babe. You can’t change my mind.” 

JJ wilted, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. Once Yaz made her mind up, there really wasn’t anything anyone could say to change it. She tried anyway. “You’re breaking my heart.” 

“Our hearts are the problem.” Yaz studied JJ. Their faces were each a mirror to one another’s distress. “You’ll thank me, one day. I promise.”

JJ knew she was wrong. Regardless, this is what she wanted. It would be unfair of her to demand more than Yaz was willing and able to give; no matter how much she wanted to drop to her knees and beg her to reconsider. She said she wasn’t calling things off, but what if distance snapped the threadbare string that tethered them to one another? What if Yaz decided she never wanted to come back? It didn’t bear to think about.

“Y’said there were two things you needed,” muttered JJ. “What’s the second?”

Yaz sat back and faced JJ. Given the heaviness of her smile, there might well have been weights hanging from the corners of her mouth. “It’s selfish.”

“I don’t care.” 

“I need a kiss, Jamie. Just a kiss.” 

JJ frowned. “That’s all you want? I could give you a lot more. You deserve a lot more.”

“Maybe later.” Yaz put a hand at the back of JJ’s head and leaned in. “Right now, I just want a kiss.” 

It wasn’t until their lips touched that JJ realised precisely why this had been such a selfish request. The kisses had always been part of the problem: Yaz’s affection, her physical touch; the ease with which they melted into one another. Poison. Straight to the heart.

JJ didn’t think about that — as though in pretending the toxins didn’t exist they’d have any less of an affect on her health. She only thought about kissing Yaz like she was the life in her lungs and the blood in her veins. She thought about holding Yaz’s face to her own like an oxygen mask, like she was breathing a secret into a cupped ear; like the slightest gap between their mouths might be the thread that unravelled the universe.

Because, as far as JJ was concerned, there _was_ no universe without Yasmin Khan. 


	7. to build a home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wont lie this chapter was the cause of a great deal of stress and im still unhappy w how it turned out especially the ending so like. if u can decipher these fuckin hieroglyphics kudos to u hope u enjoy x

“Yaz? Are you awake?” 

Yaz was awake. 

She kept her eyes closed; kept her breathing steady. She’d woken to JJ’s alarm, which had gone off almost two hours earlier. While JJ had been running, she’d tried to get back to sleep, but something in her gut had kept prodding and prodding at her and, try as she might, she couldn’t ignore it long enough to let slumber entice her again. 

JJ had returned, showered; gotten ready for the day. Usually, Yaz was awake before she got back from her run. She’d help her pick out a suit, they’d have breakfast together, and then Yaz would kiss her, wish her luck, and make filthy promises in her ear to wind her up. 

But now she couldn’t do any of that. 

She didn’t know how to act around JJ right now. After they’d returned from the gallery the evening prior, things had fast become awkward and uncertain. Where did they stand for the remaining handful of days Yaz had left in Paris? It was a weird middle ground. Limbo. Yaz didn’t deal well with incertitude. 

So, she ignored JJ and she pretended not to feel it when, following a quiet sigh, she pressed the gentlest kiss to her hairline and left the room — leaving nothing but a potent whiff of expensive cologne and dejection in her wake. 

Even when she heard the front door close behind Jack and JJ, Yaz still didn’t drag herself out of bed. There didn’t seem any point. She didn’t want to see anyone and she didn’t want to do anything. Instead, she lay there, and that feeling in her gut grew teeth. It gnawed something terrible. 

Considerate as ever, JJ had left the drapes drawn for her — but they were gauzy enough that the hot sun still soaked through like fresh blood through bandages and reminded her of the world beyond the bedroom and the day she was wasting away. 

It was about midday. 

Yaz was lying on her side with her face buried into a pillow in an effort to shy away from the natural light and the successive shame it inspired. Following a sudden series of sharp raps at her door, it swung open and Bill poked her head in without waiting for a response. Still, the knock was more than she usually bothered with.

“Rise and shine!” Bill sang. She stepped into the room carrying a plate of leftover pastries and a mug of coffee. “Or afternoon, I guess. Do you even know what time it is? You’re usually the one waking _me_ up.”

“Piss off, Bill,” grumbled Yaz, burying her face deeper into her pillow. She and Bill hadn’t spoken much since the events at the speakeasy.

“Listen, I come bearing peace offerings! Sugar and caffeine — both of which I reckon you could probably do with right about now,” mused Bill, encroaching upon Yaz’s side of the bed heedless of her obviously foul mood. “May have taken a bite out of your pain au choc, mind. But you gotta keep it tight, anyway, being a dancer, so I was really just thinking of you.” 

After setting the plate and mug down on Yaz’s bedside table, Bill swept open the blinds in one dramatic motion and sunlight drenched the whole room in intense, blinding gold. 

“Oh, for — what part of ‘piss off’ were ambiguous, to you?” snapped Yaz, rolling onto her back with a sigh and dragging a hand down her face. 

Bill perched on the edge of the bed. “We missed you at breakfast, mate.”

Yaz eyed the steam rising from the mug and suddenly resented how good the coffee JJ bought was and resented, too, that Bill knew her favourite of the half dozen flavours in the cabinets was vanilla. Once she caught the rich, sweet scent of it, it became impossible to resist sitting up and reaching for Bill’s peace offering. 

“Take it yesterday didn’t go well?” assumed Bill.

“I’m not talking to you about this.” Yaz blew the steam from the surface of her mug and took a preliminary sip. God, but it was good coffee. Almost good enough to buy her forgiveness right after that first taste. 

“Oh, c’mon, I’m really sorry, Yaz. If I’d known you were gonna feel so strongly about what happened, I’d never have done it. I wasn’t tryna hurt you, mate. Why would I wanna do that?”

“Dunno. ‘Cause you’re a nob?” Yaz wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic and leaned against the frame of the bed. “It’s one thing coming from JJ — she doesn’t always think things through — but you should’ve known better. You’re my best mate, Bill.”

“I know, I know. I’m a dick.” Bill collapsed backwards onto the bed, lying across Yaz’s outstretched legs with a pout. “God gives us brains or beauty, Yaz. It’s a rare woman who’s blessed with both.”

“Yeah, and a sorry soul who’s blessed with neither,” bit Yaz, kicking Bill’s shoulder through the covers. 

“Ouch.” Bill pressed a hand to her chest. “That was cold.”

Yaz scoffed a laugh. She regarded Bill, sprawled across her with a cheeky, half-hopeful gleam in her eye, and felt some of her anger evaporate. True, Bill did a shitty thing; at the end of the day, she was still her closest friend. Yaz didn’t _really_ think she’d ever intended to hurt her. This was just the way Bill was. A lot of the time, she thought with her libido instead of her brain. It wouldn’t be the first time it had backfired on her. In all likelihood, it wouldn’t be the last. 

Besides, Yaz could really use her best friend at the minute. “You’d better bring me breakfast in bed every morning if you plan to stay on my good side, mate,” she quipped.

Bill broke out into a grin. “Deal. How does escargot on toast sound?”

“I bloody dare you.”

The smile slipped from Bill’s face. She sat up. “You planning to miss breakfast every day, then?”

Yaz looked into her mug and shrugged. 

“Mate, what _happened_ yesterday?” wondered Bill. “Even JJ was practically silent this morning. Just kept bouncing her leg.”

“Nothing. It’s fine,” insisted Yaz, although the idea that JJ had been anxious because of Yaz’s absence only exacerbated that violent, gnawing feeling. It felt like her organs were being torn to gruesome, bloody ribbons inside of her. 

How had it all gone so wrong, so fast? She promised herself she’d never let it get this far, but JJ had stolen past her defences like a master thief. Yaz would have to take inventory to make sure nothing was missing, but she had an inkling that wouldn’t be the case. A dusty chunk or two of her heart. A portion of trust turned sour like bad milk. Nothing she couldn’t put back or replace, she was sure. 

“Come on, spill!” Bill crawled up the bed and shoved Yaz gracelessly aside to make room for herself, peeling the covers back and settling in beside her. “Did JJ mess up with the strap? ‘Cause I tried to warn her—”

“Hang on, you knew she were gonna do that?” asked Yaz with a lift of her brow. 

“Like I said, you two really need to learn how to lock your door.”

Yaz rolled her eyes. “Well, that weren’t the problem. Actually, she kinda surprised me on that front.”

Bill’s jaw dropped. “What, she pulled it off?”

“Something like that.”

“No way.” Bill threw her head back in a gleeful laugh. “Get in there, JJ.”

Though it had been a bit of a tug-of-war, Yaz couldn’t deny that JJ had held her own in the Louvre. She didn’t usually let anyone have that much power over her during sex; never dared to be so vulnerable with anyone. Yaz was hesitant to call it intimate, but that’s what it had felt like when she’d handed over the reins and ultimately let JJ make her grand apologetic gesture. It was one of the many things that terrified her about JJ — how safe she felt around her. And, yes, Yaz realised how paradoxical a predicament that was. 

“Where’d it go wrong, then?” asked Bill, stealing Yaz’s mug out of her hands and slugging back half her coffee. 

“I told her I thought we should take a break. After Paris.”

“What?” Bill sat up straighter and set the mug down on the nightstand, as if she needed both hands free to properly process Yaz’s news. “Aw, don’t say it’s ‘cause I snogged her.”

“No, Bill,” sighed Yaz. “It’s ‘cause she’s getting too attached.”

“Just her?”

Yaz afforded her best friend a withering glare she was pretty much immune to at this point. Bill was on the receiving end of so many of Yaz’s glowers that she’d built up a healthy tolerance over time. Not that it stopped Yaz from doling them out.

“I’m just saying, she’s not the one who’s been hiding away in bed all morning,” reasoned Bill. “Looks like you’re both pretty down about it.”

“I just feel bad for her, that’s it,” said Yaz, picking at the seam of the duvet. 

Bill gave Yaz’s shoulder a small, disbelieving shove. “Yaz, it’s okay to admit that you like her, you know? It’s JJ. She’s kind of impossible not to like.”

“I don’t—“

“Try again.

“Bill, seriously, I’m not—“

“Getting colder.”

“God, you’re insufferable.” 

“I’m right, though, aren’t I?”

Groaning, Yaz slumped back against the headboard and rubbed her tired eyes with the heels of her palms. “I don’t even know how it happened,” she grouched, giving up the charade. “I told myself I wouldn’t go there; wouldn’t let her get to me. She shouldn’t have been able to hurt me like that.”

“As much as you might try to, mate, you can’t stop yourself from feeling things. You’re human. It happens. Maybe you should let it.”

“I can’t, Bill. Not with her. There are too many ways it can go wrong. I just need to spend some time away from her, and hopefully it’ll sort us both out.” 

It’s not like Yaz hadn’t entertained how easy it would be to say yes to JJ. She could call her right now and tell her she’d changed her mind. JJ would be over the moon. But if one kiss between JJ and Bill had been enough to distress her so much, there was no telling how severely she might end up getting hurt further down the line when it all inevitably fell apart. Which it would. The odds were stacked against them. 

They needed time. Just a little time and a few warm bodies. Neither of them had slept with anyone else since they met, and that was unlike Yaz. If she got back on the scene, she’d remember who she was. What she was about. JJ, too, had to realise that there was more out there for her than Yaz. 

So much more.

“What if it doesn’t sort you both out?” asked Bill. “Will you really be able to walk away from her?”

Like a bear trap, those teeth inside of Yaz clamped viciously down on the soft tissue of her heart when she mumbled a downhearted, “I’ll have to, Bill.”

She convinced herself she didn’t feel the bite marks.

* * *

That day, JJ returned from work surprisingly early and in surprisingly high spirits.

Yaz had gone for late lunch and a bit of urban exploring with Bill once she’d managed to entice her out of bed. Except, while Bill had wanted to stay out afterwards with the same single-minded goal she had on most of her nights out, Yaz hadn’t been feeling anyone’s company except her own. She’d hardly stepped into the door herself, and was heading to the fridge to grab a beer, when JJ backed into the door with grocery bags in hand and a suspiciously wide smile on her face.

“Evening, Yaz!” she greeted, setting the bags down on the island. “How was your day? Get up to much?”

“Um. Not really,” frowned Yaz. Without bothering to find a bottle opener, Yaz placed the cap of her beer against the edge of the countertop and slammed her hand against it. It hissed open and she brought the bottle to her lips to catch the froth. When she turned around and leaned against the counter, JJ was unpacking her shopping. 

“Haven’t eaten, have you?” JJ asked.

“No, it’s not even half five yet,” answered Yaz, glancing at the clock on the wall to be sure. “How come you’re back so early?”

“Ah, Jack said he didn’t mind taking care of things for the evening. My head weren’t really in the game today, to be honest,” confessed JJ. She’d emptied the contents of her bags onto the island and, after a quick scan to make sure she had everything, she beamed at Yaz. “Since I’m home, I thought I’d cook for us! Now, I only know how to make one dish, but I make it really, really well. Y’like mac and cheese, right?”

“It’s just me here.”

“I figured.”

“You don’t have to do that, babe. I were just gonna order something.” In truth, food had been the furthest thing from Yaz’s mind. She’d been planning to put on a film, drink her way through the beers in the fridge, and fall asleep before JJ got back. 

“Nonsense!” JJ shrugged off her blazer, rolled up her sleeves, and tucked the end of her tie between the buttons of her shirt. “It’s really not that hard.”

Yaz set her beer down on the island and cleared her throat. “JJ, you know what I said yesterday — it still stands, yeah?”

“I’m aware. But, if I recall correctly, y’said our break doesn’t begin until after you leave Paris. Assuming you’ve no plans to leave early, that still gives us another four days,” reasoned JJ. She pulled her own beer out of the fridge, held it against the counter, and slammed her palm against it. The cap popped off. JJ winked at Yaz over the lip of the bottle, necking a good third of the beer in one go. 

“Been practising?”

“Think you’re forgetting where I come from, Yaz. Hasn’t always been fancy wine and Italian suits,” JJ reminded her. She swapped the beer bottle out for a dishcloth and draped it over her shoulder. “So? Dinner?”

If she knew what was good for her, Yaz would protest. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to keep playing pretend and act like everything was normal between them. But did Yaz really want to spend her last few days in Paris as a miserable recluse; unable, even, to look JJ in the eye? All of that notwithstanding, Yaz _was_ starting to feel a little hungry — and JJ had brought food. Surely, that was reason enough to share a meal. 

With a sigh, Yaz hoisted herself up onto one of the stools. “Need any help?”

JJ grinned. “Just your company.”

So, while JJ prepared her more elaborate take on mac and cheese, Yaz sat and chatted to her. With an ease that concerned Yaz, they slipped back into their familiar groove in no time. JJ asked Yaz about her day and Yaz returned the favour, and JJ told the amusing story of a social faux pas she’d made at work over a couple of beers while the food was in the oven, which gave them both a good laugh. JJ’s smile lingered as she stared at Yaz from across the island. 

“I hope y’don’t take this the wrong way, but y’really have got the best smile I’ve ever seen. It changes your whole face,” observed JJ. “Tried sketching it from memory once, but — well, I’m a bit crap at faces without a reference, and I haven’t seen that smile anywhere near enough. Not your proper one.”

Yaz stopped with her bottle at her lips. She put it down. “Do it now.”

“What?”

“Sketch it now. We’ve got time, right?”

JJ glanced at the timer on the counter. “Absolutely.”

Springing out of her seat, JJ rummaged around for the receipt in her grocery bag and whipped out her pen. Pulling up the stool right beside Yaz, she gave her a good, long look that fastened her to the spot, and then she got to work. 

To keep Yaz smiling, JJ kept recounting their funnier, shared memories: when they tried truffles together in Amsterdam and JJ thought the city was melting on top of them and, as such, tried to carry Yaz to safety, or when she’d attempted to set up the fire pit on her balcony and almost set herself on fire, or when they’d clumsily tried to have sex in one of the tiny pods at a capsule hotel in Tokyo. Yaz laughed easily — despite how bittersweet the memories, and how marred they were by the fact that neither of them knew whether there’d be many more left to make.

When JJ finished her sketch, she held the receipt up to her face with a pinched brow and downturned lips. “See, I got your dimples down, and that brilliant, half-moon smile you’ve got, but your eyes…” JJ lay the receipt out flat on the counter and as soon as Yaz got a look, she knew exactly what JJ meant. 

There was a melancholy to Yaz’s eyes that Yaz desperately wanted to say was just a projection on JJ’s part, but she couldn’t be sure that was true. With a fingertip, she traced the outline of her face. JJ’s art style was a little manic — she opted for scribbles rather than clean, fluid lines but, with Yaz as her muse, it paid off. Rough around the edges was Yaz to a T. She slid the receipt back towards JJ.

“I like it.”

“Mm. It’s the closest one I’ve done, I think,” said JJ, folding up her sketch and depositing it into her breast pocket. 

“How many have you done?”

“I’d be embarrassed to say. Maybe one day I’ll get it right, eh?”

Yaz thought about those perplexingly despondent eyes; frighteningly black in the still-drying ink of JJ’s pen. “I think you nailed it, Jamie.”

When the food was ready, they carried their plates out onto the balcony and JJ lit the lanterns hanging from the exterior wall. Spreading a napkin across her lap, she watched eagerly as Yaz brought the first forkful to her mouth. Though it was a unique recipe — prepared with gruyere, garlic chicken, and crusted with breadcrumbs — at its core were all the same hearty flavours that catapulted Yaz straight back to childhood. 

“Oh, my god.” Yaz swallowed her first bite and lifted her eyes to JJ. “This is so good.” 

“Y’like it?”

Yaz nodded. “Hands down the best mac and cheese I’ve ever had.” 

Delighted, JJ picked up her own fork and speared a few pieces of macaroni. “I learned how to make it when I were about six or seven. Only out of the box, back then. One of the foster kids I were stayin’ with taught me — said if I can cook somethin’ that simple, I’d never go hungry again.” She took a bite and hummed in approval, unaware that Yaz was watching her so closely. “‘Course, I’ve embellished the recipe since then. Do it with pancetta, sometimes, but I wasn't sure if you ate bacon.” 

The casual mention of JJ’s past caught Yaz off guard. After their conversation by the river, Yaz had been hasty in closing herself back up on that front. JJ evidently hadn’t taken the same precautions. 

Even now, she still left a light on and a key under the mat should Yaz ever choose to make her way back and let herself in. Yaz wondered what that must be like — to be a home and not a fortress. She wondered what it would be like to _let_ JJ be a home to her, as she herself had expressed wanting to be. Yaz imagined that it would be warm, inviting; deceptively free from danger, but that, one day, the flood would come and wash it all away. 

She poked at her food and realised that this had never been just a meal. It was JJ, once again, sharing a piece of herself with Yaz. Always offering more. 

Yaz’s phone rang halfway through their meal. When she pulled it out of her back pocket and read the caller ID, she froze. It was her mum. Yaz hadn’t spoken to her mum in months, except to shoot back the occasional brusque reply to her check-ins and thank-yous for the money. She almost declined, but the possibility of it being an emergency wouldn’t allow for it. 

“Sorry, babe, it’s my mum. I’ve gotta take this.”

“By all means.”

Slipping inside, Yaz closed the balcony door behind her and, with an elevated heart rate, accepted the call. She held it to her ear and perched on the edge of the sofa, not wanting to be the first one to say something. 

“ _Yaz? Yaz, love, are you there_?” 

Her mum’s voice impaled her like a javelin through the chest. 

Tightly gripping her phone, Yaz glanced out through the balcony doors at JJ. She’d managed to get cheese sauce on her tie and was presently attempting to dab it off with a napkin. A phantom smile haunted Yaz’s face. Somehow, knowing JJ was right there helped. She took a breath. 

“Hi, mum.”

“ _Yaz_!” She sounded relieved. “ _It’s good to hear your voice, sweetheart_.”

“Is something wrong? Is Nani okay?”

“ _Wh — oh, yes, she’s fine. Everyone’s fine, love. There’s nothing to worry about._ ”

“Whats up, then? I’m kind of in the middle of something, mum. Plus, this call must be costing you loads. I’m not exactly local, right now.”

“ _I_ _know. Sonya said you’re in Paris. She’s been keeping up with your travels online._ ” It sounded like she was trying to force an I’m-happy-for-you tone that just didn’t take. Yaz could just imagine the million questions, and probably lectures, perched on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t have the patience for any of them. 

“I know she has.”

“ _Your father and I tried to make an account on Instantgram to follow you, but I don’t think the request went through._ ”

It had. 

Yaz pinched the bridge of her nose. “I really am busy, mum.”

“ _Right — no time for chit chat. I’ll get to the point, then._ ” There was a dithering pause on the other end. Yaz could envision her mum shifting the phone to her other ear, as she typically did before she was about to scold someone or switch up the tone of the conversation. “ _Yaz, we got something in the mail, this morning. A cheque_.”

“A cheque?” Yaz knitted her brows together. “You should’ve got my last cheque a couple of weeks ago, but if it were late—”

“ _That’s the thing, love. As far as we can tell, this one isn’t from you._ ”

“What d’you mean?”

“ _It’s for a_ lot _of money — much more than you’ve ever sent — and it’s anonymous. We were wondering if you’d know anything about it_?”

Yaz’s eyes cut to JJ. “How much money?”

When her mum told her the exact amount, Yaz almost dropped her phone. There was nobody else it could be from; no one else would do that for them or even have the means to do so. Jaw hanging open, Yaz didn’t know what to feel except shock. But shock didn’t even cut it. 

“ _Do you know anything about it, love_?”

Yaz got to her feet and started pacing. “How — how could I possibly explain that kind of money? You know what I do for a living, mum.”

Her mum cleared her throat, embarrassed, and Yaz had to force herself not to hang up right then. “ _Well, you have been flying all around the world these past few months. On top of how much you help us, I can’t fathom how you’d be able to pay for all that.”_

“My friends are helping me out.”

“ _What sort of friends_?”

“Mum, I’m twenty three. I can take care of myself.”

“ _Can you? Sonya said she’s seen pictures and videos of you with people twice your age who_ —”

“They’re hardly twice my age. I think Sonya’s exaggerating a bit there.” Yaz made a mental note to have Bill block her sister on everything, because she definitely hadn’t seen anything from Yaz. 

“ _But this money_ —”

“Has nothing to do with me. If you want my advice: cash the cheque, pay off all your bills, and take a holiday. I recommend Cuba. Is that everything, mum?” Yaz heard how blunt and detached she sounded and winced. When did she become this person? How could she stop? It was hard to play happy family with someone who was forever ashamed of you.

“ _Actually, we were hoping you might stop by, when you’re home. It’d be nice to see you._ ”

Yaz thought about the last time she’d gone home. It must have been over seven months ago when she’d visited for the New Year, and was one of the most uncomfortable holidays she’d suffered to date. Her mum had cornered her and tried to get her to leave the club for the hundredth time and her dad had hardly been able to look her in the eye. 

They all lied whenever her extended family asked what she was up to, until Yaz got sick of their humiliation and told them the truth — which had gone over about as well as could be expected. Before she’d stormed out, Sonya stopped her in the hallway and promised that she’d hold down her next job and she’d make enough money for Yaz to leave the club; that she shouldn’t be putting herself out like that. In hindsight, Yaz knew Sonya had only been trying to help, but all it came across as was more judgement. She’d felt out of place in her own home, that day, and she hadn’t gone back since.

“I have a lot going on, to be honest. I can’t make any promises.”

“ _But this money changes things. You could leave the_ —”

“I have to go, okay?”

“ _Right. Well, it was lovely to hear your voice. We miss you.”_

Yaz said nothing.

“ _Okay,_ ” her mum sighed. _“See you soon, then_?”

“Bye, mum.”

“ _I love you._ ”

Yaz squeezed her eyes shut. “Love you,” she muttered, and hung up the phone with trembling hands. 

That was the longest conversation she’d had with her mum in a long time — and she spent most of it lying to her. She wanted to get mad. She wanted to get furious; she had the urge to lunge something fragile and priceless against the wall, but she didn’t know at whom her anger was supposed to be directed. 

Maybe she could direct it towards her family, who’d made her feel like an outsider in her own family for so long when all she’d ever wanted was to help them. Maybe she could direct it at herself for holding a grudge and letting it drive a wedge between them. Maybe the mere fact that JJ could send a cheque that big and not even think twice about it when her whole life had been a constant struggle would be a great scapegoat for her rage.

But, she knew, JJ’s life hadn’t been easy, either. JJ would have understood the weight of what she’d done; it wasn’t like she’d been rich her whole life. Her battle had been an uphill one. 

Yaz let her anger go. 

Really, she was just upset that JJ was so unfailingly good. Upset and confused. Because she had to leave her. And she had to do that _for_ her, because she was leaning too heavily on Yaz and Yaz couldn’t cope with that kind of codependency. She didn’t know how. It wasn’t healthy for either of them. But when she did things like this, she made it so fucking hard. 

Yaz slid the balcony door open and stepped outside. 

JJ looked up with a knowing (but not arrogant. Never arrogant) smile. “How’s the fam?”

“Jamie—” Yaz shook her head— “you really didn’t have to do that. I mean, you _really_ didn’t. That kind of money… it’s insane.”

“Not to me,” JJ said. 

“I…” Yaz grasped for a way to articulate the thousand thoughts and feelings clamouring for attention in the maelstrom of her mind, but it was like trying to catch fish with your bare hands. She was speechless. Totally speechless. 

Smile faltering, JJ dropped her napkin onto the table and got up, crossing the balcony towards Yaz. “Um, I can’t tell if — are you angry with me?”

“No, no.” Quick to reassure her, Yaz put her hands on JJ’s upper arms. “I’m not angry, babe.”

JJ sighed her relief. “Good, ‘cause I sent it before everything that happened and I worried y’might take it the wrong way.” 

“Jamie, did — did you send that money ‘cause you want me to leave the club?” asked Yaz, ready to erect all of her defences in a heartbeat. If JJ’s act of generosity had really been a ruse to control her, to change her into something easier to stomach, then it wasn’t really an act of generosity at all. 

“‘Course not. Do what y’want with your life, Yaz. Just s’long as it is _your_ life.” Lips pursed, JJ lifted her palm to Yaz’s cheek and Yaz tracked the movement of her hand cautiously. “It’s just — I just want the best for you, and you can’t have the best while you’re giving everything you earn to your family. You’re twenty three. You should be living for yourself.”

Clinging to composure with every ounce of will she possessed, Yaz took an unsteady breath. “You’ve just changed my family’s entire life, JJ.”

“And yours, I hope.” JJ’s smile was warm as a hearth. “Family is so important, Yasmin, and I really hope you’re able to mend things with them.”

Yaz covered JJ’s hand with her own. After an extended moment of silence, broken up only by the urban medley drifting up from the city below, she said, “I hate how kind you are.”

“That’s a really confusing thing to say.”

“If you were a bad person, it’d make all this so much easier.”

JJ stroked Yaz’s cheek with her thumb. “Yaz, I — I really wanna kiss you,” she whispered. Her pupils alternated between Yaz’s eyes and her mouth. “We shouldn’t, should we?”

“Probably not, no,” muttered Yaz.

But then JJ’s tongue darted out to wet her lower lip and Yaz was taking an imperceptible step closer and they both leaned in at the same time. JJ had likely been aiming for something soft and careful, but Yaz’s emotions were still running amok and her firm lips and raring tongue quickly put to bed any ideas about chastity or gentleness. 

She backed JJ up to the balcony door. A voice in the back of her head, as incessant and irritating as a buzzing fly, screamed at her to stop, slow down; think about what she was doing. 

What happened to setting boundaries? What happened to being selfless for once and not leading JJ on? Perhaps Yaz _should_ have left Paris early, because resisting JJ when she was right there in front of her was nigh on impossible. She knew she was making excuses for her abhorrent behaviour, but she couldn’t stop herself. Neither of them could.

JJ’s tongue pushed past her teeth and Yaz tugged her tie loose, feeling a firm hand cup her backside over her jeans whilst she all but tore JJ’s buttons open. Nuding her thigh between JJ’s, Yaz attached herself to her neck. JJ gasped at how fervent she was in her attention to her erogenous zones; ravening, almost. Something about the forbidden fruit just tasted sweeter — and Yaz couldn’t wait to get to its core.

She unbuckled JJ’s belt while she lavished her neck with kisses and bites. JJ, pinned to the glass, grunted quietly with every nip of teeth. 

“Don’t you wanna, um — we’re kinda in the open, at the minute,” JJ pointed out, although her hands pulled Yaz’s hips ever closer. “Bill or Jack might come home. Or, y’know, the neighbours might look out of their balcony.”

“D’you wanna go inside?” Yaz murmured against her throat. She unzipped JJ’s trousers and felt JJ tense. 

“Uh, no. No,” stammered JJ. “Just wanted to make sure y’were comfortable with the risks, is all.”

Yaz stopped and pulled back. “You don’t have to do that.”

“What?”

“Lie just to make me happy.”

It was just like JJ’s whole charade at the gallery. She was constantly trying to prove she could be anything, do anything, for Yaz — all in an effort to keep her around. It must have been exhausting for JJ to believe that she had to somehow be everything and more just to hold Yaz’s attention. But, even when Yaz tried to tell her differently, she never listened. It was one of their many issues. A red flag. For now, she turned a blind eye. 

“You don’t always have to make everything about me, babe,” said Yaz. And she intended to prove that, sometimes, it didn’t have to be about her at all. “You wanna go inside?”

Sheepish, JJ nodded. 

Taking JJ by her hand, Yaz led her through the apartment towards their bedroom. Once they’d both kicked off their shoes and JJ had removed her shirts, Yaz shoved her onto the bed and climbed on top of her. Lacing her fingers through JJ’s and pinning her hands down at either side of her head, she kissed her until she was purring and pliant; until that buzzing in Yaz’s head couldn’t be heard over their heavy breathing and racing hearts.

She groped JJ over her sports bra, but groaned her frustration against JJ’s lips when she remembered its existence. Sitting back, she pulled JJ up and helped her out of it, before pushing her right back down. 

After making a trail of kisses towards the peak of a breast, she sucked hard on the pebbled nub. Teeth and all. JJ grunted. The grunt became a sharp intake of breath when Yaz abruptly cupped her over the front of her trousers, but she’d been trained well. JJ refrained from lurching into Yaz’s touch or closing her thighs around her hand. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” announced Yaz impatiently, when rubbing JJ through two layers of fabric proved unsatisfactory. Yaz liked to feel JJ when she got worked up. She shuffled back, tugging JJ’s trousers and boxers down her legs while JJ arched her hips to help the process along. Seconds later, JJ was laid completely bare before Yaz and then Yaz was on top of her again. 

Licking her lips, she rushed forwards to capture her in another breathless kiss. Everything she was doing, she was doing with blind intensity. She kissed JJ roughly and with teeth, groped her breasts frenziedly and unapologetically; jerked her head to the side by her jaw to expose her throat for further attack. 

If she slowed down, she might think too much about what she was doing and put a stop to it. Yaz didn’t want to stop. She jammed her knee between JJ’s thighs and JJ sighed.

“Tell me how much you want it, Jamie,” Yaz cooed into her ear.

“Christ, I want this more than anythin’,” panted JJ. “I want _you_ more than anythin’. Please, Yaz. I’m beggin’ you.”

“Wait there.”

Yaz climbed off the bed. JJ whined, but Yaz didn’t go far. She rummaged around in one of the drawers in the chest and pulled out a compact, silicone wand vibrator with an ergonomic handle. It was one of JJ’s favourites; half a dozen settings and four levels of intensity. 

Returning to the bed, Yaz straddled one of JJ’s legs and dropped the wand onto the mattress in favour of wrapping her hands loosely around JJ’s throat and engaging her in another frantic kiss. Yaz wasn’t usually like this — rushed, thoughtless; bordering on manic. Yes, she maintained her control over JJ, but it was as if she was losing control of herself. She suffocated the notion between the press of their tongues and lips.

When she at last broke away, she nodded her head towards the wand. “Pick it up.”

JJ picked it up and then looked at Yaz, awaiting further direction. 

“Choose a setting.”

“Y’want me to choose?”

“This is for you, babe.” Yaz brushed a lock of hair out of JJ’s face. “You’ve been good. You deserve a reward.”

Eyes alight with glee and cheeks burning with pride, JJ selected a setting and turned the vibrator up to medium intensity. She offered it to Yaz, but Yaz just took her wrist and guided the buzzing head of the toy to one of JJ’s hard nipples. JJ moaned softly and thudded her head back against the mattress.

“Keep it there,” instructed Yaz. 

While JJ pleased herself with the vibrator, Yaz sucked her other nipple with no small measure of concentration. She left several marks on the pale flesh of her breast and then, once satisfied, she yanked JJ’s hand to the other nipple and set to work on leaving marks on the opposite side of her chest. She didn’t realise until she pulled back to appreciate her efforts that they were almost perfectly symmetrical. There was something of an art to Yaz’s urgency; a method in the madness. 

JJ’s eyes flew open when Yaz ran two fingers through her. She wasn’t at all surprised to feel how ready she was. 

“My turn.”

Yaz took the vibrator from JJ. She dragged the head from the top of her breast, along her jumping stomach, and past her pelvis. When it found home, a moan tore free from JJ’s lungs and she curled her fists into the sheets — legs spread wide and head thrown back. Yaz relished in it. She’d never enjoyed anyone else’s ruination as much as she enjoyed JJ’s. She was so vocal; so expressive. It was impossible not to crave that. 

At the same moment as she turned the intensity up a notch, Yaz dipped her mouth to JJ’s throat and felt the rumble of her groan against her lips. It took everything Yaz had not to blemish and bruise JJ’s neck, shoulder; collarbones — spurred on as she was by JJ’s loud, outright unhinging moans. 

Running her tongue from JJ’s clavicle to the lobe of her ear, Yaz dug her fingers into her jaw and forced her to look at her. It clearly took a lot for JJ to be able to keep her eyes open and focused on Yaz. They were cloudy. Unseeing. Yaz pushed her thumb into her open mouth and hooked it over her bottom teeth; her every jagged breath landed hot and wet on her knuckle. Yaz bit her swollen lip. It was a crime that JJ didn’t know how unreal she was — especially like this.

“More?” Yaz asked.

JJ nodded — tried to, anyway. It was a difficult task when Yaz had a thumb in her mouth and was holding her jaw so harshly. She let JJ’s face go and turned the intensity up to its maximum setting. JJ moaned, but not loud enough. Yaz bore the vibrator down against her with a fraction more force until, as if dial-adjusted, JJ’s volume rocketed. 

Yaz kissed JJ. She didn’t mind that they were both too hot-blooded for it to be anything resembling sensual or controlled. Tongues and teeth collided without precision and they both bit down. Yaz tasted iron. Whether it was her own or JJ’s, she couldn’t say. She only knew that their lips were going to be bruised and bright red and sore to the touch and, even knowing this, Yaz struggled to ease up. 

She’d never been like this before; never let go of her own restraint or been so inebriated with desire as to forgo her own rules and principles. Because this wasn’t supposed to happen. Yaz was meant to be leaving JJ alone. Helping her. 

Instead, she’d ended up right back on top of her — giving her exactly what she wanted at the cost of her own long term happiness. At the cost of her own. Unfortunately for both of them, when JJ’s body was squirming beneath her, Yaz found it hard to care about anything else. Rational thought became a distant memory. 

So, she welted their lips and she branded JJ’s body everywhere she could get away with and she tugged her nipples between her teeth and clamped down. She went all in. No mercy. Not that JJ would beg her for any. This, Yaz knew, was how she liked it.

Before long, JJ began to tense up with anticipation. “Yaz…”

Yaz surrendered the nipple between her lips and looked up. “You gonna come, babe?” 

Eyes squeezed shut, face a portrait of twisted pleasure, JJ nodded. Yaz leaned over her face and JJ reached out to cup her neck; fingertips digging into the base of her skull. But Yaz wasn’t going to make it so easy. Where was the fun in that — for either of them? She turned the intensity of the vibrator down but didn’t lift it. Rather, she pinched JJ’s nose and she kissed her.

And this was a game they’d played many times before; a game in which JJ wasn’t allowed to breathe until she came for Yaz.

Yaz had never given it too much thought before, but the idea that she was the thief of JJ’s oxygen, the hostage-taker of her lungs; her ultimate dictator right down to governing her right to freely inhale? Well. It seemed there might have been something to it, now. JJ would live and die for Yaz, if Yaz allowed it. 

Right now, it was a turn on to be so in control; to know that JJ trusted her with such an ultimate power. But it went much further than sex. Somewhere along the way, Yaz had usurped JJ as the monarch of her own life. 

Yaz never asked for that crown; never wanted that throne. 

So, why did she keep coming back to it?

Gasping into her mouth, JJ did not attempt to push Yaz away but instead clawed at the back of her neck and pulled her closer. Yaz turned the intensity all the way back up and pinched JJ’s nose tighter. JJ made a strangled noise. Seconds later, she came.

Her body went rigid, hips pitching off the bed and thigh colliding with Yaz’s crotch. Yaz let go of her nose. She followed her clit with the vibrator, pressing into her without lenience and ensuring JJ’s climax gripped her like a vice. Her moan was staggered by her efforts at choking back the air she’d been denied. She writhed as if in her death throes; forehead and nose both knocking against Yaz’s all the while and clipped nails raking white lines on the back of her neck.

Yaz watched it all unfold with acute attention to every minute detail. Her pupils were blown; black holes greedily consuming all they took in.

And, once JJ eventually stopped spasming with aftershocks and slumped as if expecting Yaz to ease up, Yaz did the very opposite. She pressed the wand into JJ’s limp hand and curled her fingers around it. Dazed, JJ lifted her head but didn’t object when Yaz led her hand to her nipple and encouraged her to hold the head of the vibrator to it. JJ swore and her eyes fell closed. 

Shuffling down her body, Yaz curled her arms around JJ’s thighs and gave her no time to prepare before she dove in between them. JJ gasped loudly. Her legs were bent, veins bulging; fingers in her free hand weaving through Yaz’s hair. 

JJ was burning and swollen and not long at all from her second orgasm, which Yaz didn’t prolong or deny. Insatiate, she lapped at JJ with a perfectly poised tongue and a distinct lack of forbearance. This, combined with the head of the wand pressing into one of JJ’s sensitive, pebbled nipples, worked her up in a heartbeat. She didn’t announce it. Likely, she didn’t have the cognisance. 

For the second time, JJ’s muscles convulsed and she moaned Yaz’s name like somebody crying out to their god. A desperate plea. A last ditch prayer. 

  
  


Something about it sobered Yaz; propelled her back into self-awareness. _What am I doing?_ Like a god, she didn’t answer JJ’s prayers the way she wanted or expected. She didn’t answer them at all. Because JJ only ever prayed for what killed her, and how could Yaz so carelessly have forgotten that?

JJ collapsed. Yaz picked up the vibrator where it rolled out of her hand and onto the bed and switched it off. In the near-silence that followed, she wrestled with the horns of an immense guilt. JJ thought her something holy. The opposite was closer to the truth. If hell was real, it was either her final destination or her provenance. She climbed off JJ’s lap and dropped down next to her. 

“Well, that were intense,” remarked JJ.

“Wanted to thank you, that’s all,” Yaz claimed, hoping to stamp out any hopes she might have given JJ and reverse any damage she’d just done. 

One glance at JJ’s body told her the physical damage would be a little harder to undo. She made to kiss JJ’s cheek and leave. As she leaned in, however, JJ turned her head at the very last second and caught her in a proper kiss. For an agonising, self-destructive few seconds, Yaz let it happen. Why was it so hard to push JJ away? When Yaz eventually managed to break away, she lowered her eyes. 

“My turn?” asked JJ, reaching for Yaz’s hip. 

“No, babe.” Yaz peeled JJ’s hand off her shirt. “Like I said, I just wanted to thank you.” She started towards the edge of the bed but JJ grabbed her hand and looked up at her with a frown.

“Why do I feel like somethin’ just happened? Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

Yaz softened. “You haven’t done anything wrong. Promise. It’s just — I shouldn’t have done that. It were cruel.”

“Cruel?”

“I don’t want you thinking that things are just gonna keep being normal between us. They’re not, JJ. They can’t be.” 

“I know that,” frowned JJ. “I just wanted to return the favour.” 

“No need.” Yaz squeezed JJ’s hand. “Consider it my going away present.”

“But, you’re not goin’ anywhere right this second,” JJ countered — and that spark of mischief in her eye was exactly the thing Yaz was trying to avoid providing any friction or fuel to. They couldn’t keep trying to find loopholes or exceptions. Yaz had to be resolute; stub the spark out and let the embers fade. 

“I’m not, but I don’t think that can happen again for a while, Jamie.”

JJ groaned. “This is so hard, Yasmin.”

“I know, babe,” sighed Yaz. “It’s hard for me, too.”

Sitting up and pulling her knees up to her chest, JJ rested her chin on one of them with a thoughtful crease between her brows. “Okay, well, can I make a suggestion?”

“‘Course.”

“We don’t have to sleep together. We don’t even have to kiss. But, for these next four days, could we at least be friends?” asked JJ. The hopeful, earnest innocence to her proposition made Yaz’s stomach sink like a stone. What had she ever done to deserve the affection of someone like JJ?

“Sure,” smiled Yaz. “We can be friends. For a few days.”

JJ grinned. “Brilliant!” She sprang to her feet, pulled the blanket from the foot of the bed, and wrapped it around herself. “Right, I’m gonna have a quick wash, but then how about a movie? I’ve got a secret stash of sweets in the kitchen, too.”

Yaz laughed. “Babe, everyone knows about your ‘secret’ stash of sweets. Nobody touches them ‘cause they don’t want diabetes.”

Making her way towards the bathroom, JJ shot Yaz a roguish smirk. “Choose a film?”

“I know the perfect one.”

After JJ’s shower, they got into their pyjamas, pooled her hoarded confectionery into a large bowl, and rotted their teeth on popcorn and M&M’s in bed — watching _Peter Pan_ from JJ’s laptop all the while. JJ gave a passionate, running commentary and mouthed along to every single word.

Partway through the film, Yaz leaned her head against JJ’s shoulder, against the soft cotton of her sweater, and looked up at her. She studied her wide-eyed enthusiasm and the childlike smile on her face and thought, _I wish. I wish JJ could love without losing herself. I wish I could love without the paralysing fear of being let down. I wish that, somehow, she and I could make this work._

She turned back towards the fairies dancing on screen and sighed. 

Yaz didn’t believe in fairytales.

* * *

For the most part, Yaz and JJ managed to stick to ‘just friends’.

They didn’t have sex. They didn’t kiss. They didn’t even hug. 

When JJ was home, they’d cook together — Yaz broadening her horizons beyond the mac and cheese she’d come to rely on — and if Jack and Bill were in, they’d join. They’d watch films in bed, although when Yaz convinced JJ to watch a horror movie she ended up spending half the night consoling her, or they’d have a drink, or go for a walk around the city. 

Bill ribbed Yaz about it endlessly, claiming that she was becoming domestic in her efforts to keep a physical distance. But Yaz knew she was just indulging JJ. She was giving her these days to cherish, because their impending separation would no doubt be awful for her.

Overall, it went well — even if, sometimes, Yaz caught JJ watching her like all she wanted to do was drop to her knees right in front of her. It wasn’t a walk in the park for Yaz, either. She didn’t really do friends. Aside from Bill, they had never come easy to her. Occasionally, she’d have to stop herself from stroking JJ’s hair or touching her face or even, once or twice, from leaning in to kiss her. But she had to regain her control. It was slipping, and that wouldn’t help either of them.

JJ had booked something for Yaz’s last night in Paris weeks in advance. Because JJ was hesitant to cancel such a hard to come by reservation, they’d agreed to call it a friend date. It was hard to see it as such when they arrived. 

What JJ had neglected to mention, prior to their imminent approach, was that the reservation was at a restaurant inside the Eiffel Tower itself. They pulled up to the tower and Yaz was convinced there’d been an error in translation between JJ and their driver. The restaurant’s formal dress code didn’t help matters, either. 

They exited the private elevator and strode in, Yaz wearing a black, backless dress and red bottoms and JJ in a coordinated, relaxed suit with a sheer shirt underneath. If their attire didn’t scream ‘date’, the venue certainly did. 

Glass walls overlooked the entirety of the breathtaking city of love. The Champ de Mars stretched out, lush and green, before them, though their view was intersected in parts by the tower’s iron beams. Both the ceiling and the floor were spotlessly white, and modern seats of cream and brown sat at tables of dark wood.

Yaz attempted to see past the candlelight and the sun setting over the Parisian skyline and the faintly romantic, classical music playing discreetly in the background. If she didn’t look past it, she’d be forced to consider the possibility that JJ had brought her here on purpose, as if to blow her mind with one last night of luxury beyond her wildest dreams and entice her into staying. That seemed too insidious a thing for JJ to do. Yaz knew they both were on the same page.

Friends.

For one more night.

They talked fairly easily over unbelievably expensive food and wine. Yaz tried to keep the conversation companionable; it wouldn’t have been hard for them to forget their mutual understanding and let the inherent allure of their surroundings steer them back onto a less than platonic path. Especially now that they both had a few glasses of red in their system.

Work was a topic of conversation Yaz deemed safe enough. JJ’s, most of all. She didn’t tend to think of high-rises and condos and get turned on. 

“So, you’ve never actually told me,” Yaz began while JJ topped up their wine, “why architecture? I mean, of all things, how’s that where you ended up?”

JJ shrugged. She set the wine bottle down and rested her elbows on the table, twisting the ring on her thumb. “Think my love for it probably stemmed from the need to build a home. For as long as I can remember, I were plottin’ out my dream house with crayons and coloured pencils.” She twirled the stem of her wine glass around and smiled. “Funny thing is, when I were a little kid, my dream home were probably a bit shoddy. A bedroom all to myself, a decent sized garden with enough room for a little dog to run around; a room to play with my friends — if I ever made any. Those were my big dreams. Wasn’t ‘til I got a bit older that I realised most kids already had those things. I’ve since changed the design up a fair few times.”

Yaz tried never to pity JJ, she made a point of it, but whenever she mentioned her upbringing it was so hard not to ache for her with every fibre of her being. “Where you live now, is that not your dream home?”

“Nah, you’ve seen it. There’s no personality in that place. It’s just — it’s one of those projects you keep pushing back and pushing back because, well, because it means so much to you. Or because it meant so much to that lonely kid who you were, and you wanna do ‘em proud. You wanna make sure it’s perfect. I owe that kid at least that much, y’know? Plus…” JJ trailed off. Her gaze fell, self-conscious, to her hands.

“Plus, what?” prompted Yaz, ducking her head to seek out JJ’s eyes.

JJ didn’t look up when she said, “Plus, whenever I imagined building my home, I never imagined building it for just myself. I never imagined I’d have to live there alone.”

“Oh.” Yaz leaned back in her chair. The waiter came over to ask about dessert and she dismissed him, waiting until he was gone to say, “Jamie, take my word for it, if you build your home, you won’t be living there alone for long. Someone out there’s gonna love you to death. There’s a lot to love, babe. I mean it.”

“I don’t want _someone,_ Yaz. I want—”

“Why don’t you tell me how you became an architect?” interrupted Yaz. She was trying so hard to make this, their last night, as pleasant as it possibly could be given the unpleasantness of her impending departure. “Tell me how you became so successful. You never tell this story.”

JJ looked at Yaz for a loaded few seconds, obviously trying to decide whether to take Yaz’s less-than-subtle hint or ignore her efforts entirely. In the end, she yielded. “That’s ‘cause I don’t like bragging.”

“It’s not bragging if I’m asking, JJ.” Yaz nudged her foot under the table. “Go on, how’d you go from doodling your dream home with crayons to building one of the biggest—”

“ _The_ biggest, in five years.”

“Right, and you don’t like bragging?”

At the very least, that got a shy smile out of JJ. “All right, fine, but it’s kind of a long story.”

“Lucky for me, I’ve perfected the art of sleeping with my eyes open.”

“Wait, really?”

“I’m messing with you, babe.”

“Oh. So, should I still tell the story?”

“Please.”

And so JJ launched into the story of her success. She told Yaz how doodles became sketches became blueprints. How, when she was young, she’d sneak away to libraries — safe spaces, for her — whenever she was able, and perfect her craft, study up; consume as much information as humanly possible. 

What had started out as a child’s means of hope and escapism soon realised itself as an achievable goal to work towards. That goal became a detailed plan with Jack’s help. After a drunken pact one night, they vowed to commit to every step of their plan until they never again had to scrape by or rely on anybody else’s good will to look after them. Studious and wholly dedicated, they made their way through college and got into Cambridge, which boasted one of the best architecture courses in the country. 

Yaz found herself listening to JJ’s story with rapt intent. As ever, JJ’s enthusiasm was hypnotic; her story endearing and inspiring. JJ had been dealt such an awful hand in life, and she’d managed to completely turn it around and make something of herself when it would have been so easy for her to quit and hide away. To fold in on herself.

Like Yaz.

When JJ’s story was through, Yaz breathed a stunned laugh. “You really are amazing, Jamie. D’you know that?”

Colour pervaded JJ’s cheeks and she looked down into her, now empty, wine glass with a subtle shrug. “It’s — it’s just perseverance, really.”

“I’m serious,” insisted Yaz. “Don’t be modest, babe. I could never do what you did.”

JJ frowned at Yaz. “No offence, Yasmin, but I strongly disagree. You’re young. Very young. There’s so much time for you to do whatever you wanna do with your life. The clock hasn’t stopped, yet, has it?” She steepled her fingers and leaned in. “You said you studied performing arts, yeah? That you got a masters?”

“Fat lot of good that turned out to be,” scoffed Yaz.

“What did you want to do? What was _your_ dream?”

“It’s daft.”

“Nothin’ you ever say is daft.”

Were anyone else asking, Yaz would tell them to do one. What business was it of theirs, anyway? But Yaz knew JJ would never laugh at her. If she had any doubts about that, the unimposing patience on her face was a gentle enough reminder. 

“I wanted to — I wanted to act. Go into theatre,” Yaz revealed. She felt stupid as soon as the words left her lips. 

But JJ extended her the most brilliant smile and it assuaged her diffidence some. “Yasmin Khan,” she breathed, spreading her hands, “what a fantastic dream!”

“A pipe dream,” amended Yaz. “Especially now.”

“Why’s that?”

Yaz threw her hands up like it was obvious. “Because, babe, instead of getting experience, I’ve been dancing at the club and partying all the time. Instead of making connections with the right people, I’ve been grinding on their laps. It’s just — I have to think about things from a realistic perspective.”

Once upon a time, getting up on stage was all Yaz had ever wanted. Now, she got up on stage every night — and it was nothing even remotely like what she’d wanted for herself. Instead of flowers, people threw money at her. Instead of putting on elaborate costumes, Yaz took all her clothes off. No standing ovations or critical acclaim, only middle aged men with poorly concealed hard-ons and too much cash to burn. 

There were times when Yaz enjoyed her job; when she enjoyed the power that came with it and the thrill of commanding the whole room with her body and her undeniable presence. Nevertheless, it wasn’t a career. 

It wasn’t a future. 

In theory, with the money JJ had sent to her family, Yaz could start to think about leaving. But, as far as she was concerned, there weren’t many other options out there for her. She hadn’t acted in so long, and the only other experience she had was in customer service, when she’d worked a couple of part-time jobs during uni. But Yaz wouldn’t go back to boring. Not ever. She’d sooner stay at the club until they kicked her out. A lot could be said about Yaz’s way of life, but there was no denying that it was always interesting. It always kept her on her toes.

JJ rested her chin on her thumb; fingers curled in front of her mouth. One of her many ‘deep-thought’ faces. “Pretend you could — pretend an opportunity presented itself to you — would you do it? Is it still somethin’ you want?”

“There’s no point even thinking about it, is there? It’s not gonna happen.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Can we just drop it? Please?” It didn’t do to dwell on hypotheticals. Yaz had never been interested in fantasies; in setting herself up for disappointment. Her worldview hadn’t been rose-tinted in a very long time and she preferred it that way. 

“Sure,” smiled JJ. She waved their server over for the cheque. Once she’d paid, she turned to Yaz with a grin. “Now, how ‘bout a nosy up top, eh?”

The top of the tower supplied an even grander, 360 degree view of the city. A tall, mesh fence bordered the edge, and people were crammed up against almost every inch of it. Above them: the antennae and the bruise-purple sky. The buildings in the immediate vicinity were all such similar heights that the city looked like a solid block with grooves carved into it, as if a spangled maze one might be happy to get lost in. 

Spotlights cut through the air around them, and everywhere they turned people were taking selfies with their loved ones, holding one another by the waist; kissing like the protagonists of their own movies.

They made their way to a quieter corner of the lookout, affording them a vista of the shining river and a few distant skyscrapers littering the horizon, and leaned against the railing. JJ pointed out their apartment while a cool breeze tousled their hair. All in all, it was a monumental panorama. An eternal landscape. Only, not for Yaz.

“I’m gonna miss it here,” she lamented. 

Without missing a beat, JJ said, “I’m gonna miss you.” Yaz didn’t reply, allowing the confession to get lost in the labyrinth at their feet. JJ peeled away from the railing and faced her. “We’re standin’ on top of the Eiffel Tower, Yasmin, and you’re lookin’ like that — and I’m s’posed to just _not_ kiss you?”

Yaz looked out towards the seam of land and sky, where pale orange flickered slowly out like a candle burning up the last of its wax. “Friends don’t kiss friends, JJ.”

“I made a mistake, with that one.”

“Meaning?”

“We both know I could never just be your friend,” mumbled JJ. Shoulders sagging when Yaz refused to meet her eye, she turned back towards the view and shoved her hands in her pockets. “How long do I have to stay away from you?”

“Until you don’t have to try so hard,” said Yaz.

“And then what?”

“I don’t know, babe.”

“What if you don’t come back to me?” JJ urged. The pain and unabashed desperation in her voice made Yaz ill. 

“You might not come back to me. That’s the whole point.” Yaz pulled away from the railing and leaned against it. “You’ve been all about me for so long that you’ve got tunnel vision. We both need to just wait and see what happens when I take myself out of the picture, okay?”

“But if we do both come back to one another, could we try?” asked JJ, stepping in front of Yaz. “Really, properly try?”

Yaz sighed. She really had wanted this to be a good night. “I don’t — I don’t do that. And I definitely can’t do it with you. Like I said the other day, we’re living in two completely different worlds. We’re on completely different paths.”

“But I know you feel things for me,” said JJ. She took Yaz by the hands. “I know you do.”

“That’s…” Frustrated, Yaz tilted her head towards the sky and prayed for strength. “That’s not the point. I explained this to you, JJ. I won’t risk this all falling apart on landing on top of us. Why are you making it so hard for me to do the right thing?”

“Because… you _know_ why.” JJ thudded her forehead against Yaz’s and closed her eyes. “One day, Yaz, I’ll prove it to you. And it won’t be with sex or with money. One day, you’re just gonna look at me—” JJ opened her eyes— “and you’re gonna know that this is real. That you can trust me not to hurt you, or leave you behind, or whatever else it is you think I’m gonna do to you. ‘Cause I could never.”

“JJ,” started Yaz, weariness weighing heavy on her every syllable, “have you even listened to a word I’ve said?”

“I have. I really have. I’ll do what you told me to do with our time apart,” JJ vowed, “but it’s only gonna prove all the stuff I just told you. It won’t change how I feel about this. It’ll always be you for me, Yaz.”

Yaz pulled her head back. “God, don’t you hear yourself? It’s not even been five months, Jamie.”

But JJ wasn’t swayed.

“I knew from the very beginning. I knew from the moment you wrote your number on my bathroom mirror. Y’know what else I knew?” JJ squeezed Yaz’s hands. “I’m gonna marry you one day, Yasmin Khan. I guarantee it.”

Yaz stared blankly back at JJ. “You’ve genuinely lost your mind.”

“Maybe,” agreed JJ, unconcerned. “For you, I’d lose it all.”

And that’s precisely what worried Yaz. JJ was all or nothing, but she could also be rash and impulsive. One day, she might decide to put everything she had into her relationship with Yaz. The next, she might realise what a huge mistake she’d made. 

She was such an emotional person that Yaz couldn’t trust a word that came out of her mouth while her mind was so fogged up with the red mist of her exploding heart. Yaz needed JJ thinking with her head and not her heart. Until that happened, there was no way she was risking it. The problem was, Yaz didn’t believe JJ had it in her to see things clearly where her heart was concerned. And she wouldn’t ever ask her to change; it was part of who she was. A feeler. A giver. A devout lover. 

But the flame that burned twice as bright burned half as long — and, right now, there were blazing suns behind JJ’s eyes.

“You still can’t kiss me,” said Yaz.

“That’s okay, ‘cause we’ll come back here one day. Right to this spot. And on that day, mark my words, I’m gonna kiss you dizzy.”

“You sound pretty sure of that.”

“Ah, you know me. I’m an optimist. And I believe in this. I believe in you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“If y’don’t mind, Yasmin, I’m gonna anyway.”

* * *

The next morning, JJ took Bill and Yaz to the airport on her way to work. They rode in what was essentially a small limousine, and the closer they got, the more unbearable the atmosphere in the back of the car became. Bill, hungover and slumped across the opposite sofa, was either oblivious or apathetic to the charged air passing between JJ and Yaz like a lethal current that threatened to shock any who prodded at it. 

Once they arrived, Bill slunk straight off towards the jet to empty the contents of her stomach and lie down. Yaz stayed behind to give JJ a proper goodbye. She felt she owed her one. She felt she owed herself one.

Except, once they were finally alone, neither woman knew how to broach it. Following an unbearably long moment of silence, JJ cleared her throat. 

“Um, before you go, I actually got you somethin’. Sort of,” she announced, reaching into the inside pocket of her blazer and pulling out a folded slip of paper. She handed it to Yaz, who opened it up to find an address, date, and time written inside in JJ’s unmistakably manic penmanship. 

“What is it?”

“Well, I’m a big fan of the arts, as you know. Theatre included,” began JJ. She shifted in her seat to face Yaz. “A friend of mine — she’s brilliant, really — is doin’ a production of _A Midsummer Night’s Dream._ It’s gonna be ace. They’ll be taking the show all over. Anyway, she’s hosting auditions in London in a few weeks and she said she’d love for you to come down and read for a part.”

“I — what? JJ, you really—”

“Didn’t have to, I know.” JJ waved her gratitude away. “Like I said, Yaz, you deserve whatever you want out of life. If this is it, well… here’s your chance.”

Yaz stared at the paper in her hands. It suddenly felt about a tonne heavier than it was. “I haven’t acted in forever,” she mumbled, “and I’ve never done it professionally. Jamie, I can’t.”

“It’s just one audition. Give it a try, yeah? I know you’ve got it in you, Yasmin.” JJ grinned broadly. “You’ll smash it.”

Unsure what else there was to say, Yaz pocketed the paper and gave JJ a grateful nod. That same, charged tension fell over them once more. JJ smoothed her tie down and looked through the window behind Yaz. People were milling about by the jet, carrying luggage and making final checks. JJ pursed her lips. 

“Right. Well, I s’pose I’ll see you on the other side of all this,” she said.

“Please don’t just sit around waiting for me, JJ,” implored Yaz. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” JJ swore after only a split second’s hesitation. “C’mon then. Your carriage awaits.” She climbed out of the car and rushed around to Yaz’s side to open the door for her. 

After taking JJ’s hand and allowing her to help her out, Yaz smiled at her. And she wanted to say something else, or do something more, because it didn’t feel right to leave it like that — with naught but a sorry smile. Not after everything. But then, before she knew she was even doing it, Yaz walked right past JJ and headed towards the jet. 

She made it half a dozen steps before stopping. 

With clenched fists, she stared at the jet. She shouldn’t look back. She should just keep walking, and leave JJ in the rearview, and not let on how hard it was to walk away from her. But JJ’s eyes were boring holes into her back and Yaz’s feet might as well have had roots spanning miles below the earth for how stubborn they were in their refusal to take a single step more. Yaz was a hair’s breadth from turning around, when—

“Don’t turn around,” JJ whispered. She was right behind her. “Don’t look. Just close your eyes, Yasmin.”

“JJ…”

“It’s okay. Close your eyes.”

Following a deep breath, Yaz let her eyes fall closed. In the next instant, she was enveloped in a warm, full embrace and JJ was speaking right into her ear. 

“If you do it with your eyes closed,” JJ said, voice muffled by Yaz’s hair, “it’s like it never happened, right?”

Yaz choked a laugh. With her eyes squeezed shut, she hugged JJ back, but it was killing her not to open them. She buried her face in the crook of JJ’s neck and held her as tight as JJ was holding her — which is to say, tight. 

One last inhale of woody cologne, of vanilla and amber and a safety Yaz wished she could believe in. Like she wished she could believe that the hand cradling the back of her head would never think to reach for anyone else. Or like she wished she could trust that the heart hiding behind the ribs pressed up against her own would never grow tired of her; would never beat for someone better.

“Take care of yourself, Jamie. I mean it.”

“And you, Yaz.” 

Yaz felt JJ’s arms loosen; hers did the same. Inch by inch, JJ pulled away from her. She stroked Yaz’s cheek one last time and, featherlight, pressed a kiss to her forehead. JJ’s lips were damp. She was crying. 

“Don’t open them ‘til I’m gone,” croaked JJ. 

As her hand fell away from Yaz’s face, her thumb grazed her lips and Yaz half wished she’d kiss them before she left. Just one last kiss. But Yaz had asked her not to and JJ would never take what wasn’t offered. Probably, that was for the best. It would have been salty, and it would have been sad, and it would have tasted like an ending. 

Yaz didn’t have to be able to see JJ walking away to feel her absence. She heard the car door open and close, and then the engine came alive. Slowly, the tyres rolled over the gravel behind her. Yaz resisted and resisted and resisted. 

She resisted until she couldn’t anymore.

But when she spun around to steal one last look, JJ was already gone.

* * *

For the first couple of weeks, Yaz worried she’d made a huge mistake.

To begin with, JJ texted her every day with brief updates and well wishes that either made Yaz smile or made her ache. She never replied, but she got used to waking up to a message imploring her to have a great day and going to bed with a goodnight text. One day, however, she woke up to a message of an entirely different breed. 

_Sorry,_ it read. _Jack said I’m crossing a line, which was never my intention. I’ll leave you alone. I hope you’re well, Yasmin. Bye (for now). x_

Yaz had to force herself not to get back to her with an, _I don’t care. Fuck the line. Please don’t stop._ That wouldn’t have been fair to either of them, though. So, she let the last tether snap and acted like she didn’t mourn its loss. 

It was coming up to three weeks without JJ when something happened that changed Yaz’s outlook; made it that much easier to keep her distance from JJ and convince herself she’d made the right call. 

She and Bill were on a night out with a friend Yaz hadn’t seen since university. They were on the balcony’s edge booth at an upscale club; the kind of place Yaz could afford now that she wasn’t sending all her earnings to her family. Below them, a heaving throng danced to pulsing, bone-jolting electronic dance music booming out of large speakers at either side of the DJ’s stage. Strobe lights and lasers illuminated the faces of the crowd in snapshots of ecstasy and thrill. 

Lately, she liked her clubs loud and crammed and sweaty. If she had it her way, she’d be at the centre of the crowd right now. Lost in the music and in the push and pull of bodies. But it had been a task enough to entice her old friend into the venue in the first place, so they’d taken up residence on the balcony where they could at least hear one another talk. 

Yaz was at the stage of tipsy where she was considering texting JJ. But, she knew, if she was considering it then it still hadn’t been long enough. Besides, she hadn’t heard from JJ in almost a week, which meant that she was sticking to her end and Yaz would be out of order in trying to get in the way of that. So, she pushed it from her mind, took another shot from their communal bottle of vodka, and tuned back into the conversation at hand. 

Martha was in the middle of explaining to Bill how, after taking some time off, she’d gone back to her studies and finally finished earning her PhD. 

“Why’d you end up coming back?” asked Yaz. “Last I heard, you dropped out of uni to go travelling with that guy.”

“Yeah, I know.” Martha shook her head, embittered. “I was young. I thought it was love. You know how it is.”

Bill snorted. “Yaz defo doesn’t know how it is,” she remarked, winking at Yaz over the lip of her cocktail glass as she slugged back a healthy dose of something lethal and bright pink. 

Yaz ignored her. “Who was he?”

“He was a doctor, too, actually,” explained Martha, swirling the drink in her glass around with her straw before taking a sip. “Some rich philanthropist type. He was impressive, yeah, but he knew it. I think he just wanted someone around _to_ impress, you know? Me being a total lovesick idiot, I fell for it. But he never cared about me the way I cared about him. Took me a while to see it, but I did.”

“Kinda sounds like Yaz’s situation, a bit,” mused Bill, leaning against the backrest and crossing a leg over her knee. “I mean, not really. JJ was more—”

“Bill, really?” Yaz cut in.

“What?”

“Who’s JJ?” asked Martha.

“No one,” said Yaz, before reconsidering. “I mean, she’s not no one.”

“Defo ain’t no one,” confirmed Bill. She turned to Martha. “She’s this mega rich architect who flew Yaz around the world and basically dug her parents out of debt with a click of her fingers, and Yaz threw her away ‘cause she doesn’t do relationships.”

Yaz rolled her eyes. “That’s not — there were a lot of factors.” Yaz poured herself another shot. Necked it. Grimaced. “And I didn’t throw her away.”

“Let me guess,” said Martha, a knowing smirk on her face, “she was eccentric and brilliant and like no one you’ve ever met, and you started to hope there was actually room for someone like you in her life?”

“No, I… I dunno.” Was it too soon to pour another shot?

“You can’t fall for it, Yaz. It’s not real. The way people like that live — there’s a constant conveyor belt of people in their lives who they like to have around to remind them of how important and special they are and then, when they get bored of you—”

“Aw, come on, Yaz. You know that wasn’t JJ,” reckoned Bill. “She worshipped you.”

“Yeah? How do you know? You knew her for a few weeks, and I met her less than six months ago,” argued Yaz. “Honestly, we have no idea. Maybe she just liked having me around so much ‘cause she enjoyed having a charity case in tow to make her feel better. Maybe she just really liked the way I fucked her. We don’t know, Bill.”

That day in Paris, when they’d said goodbye, Yaz would have scoffed at anyone who suggested as much. Or, more likely, decked them. She and JJ had an abundance of issues, but when the end came, Yaz didn’t doubt that JJ cared about her. Even if it was overblown and misguided and due to burn out at a moment’s notice. But Yaz hadn’t expected that it would hurt so much to stay away from JJ. 

She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but this felt like torture.

And there was Martha, with her similar story, and the reminder that what she was agonising over had never been real to begin with. Martha was her friend, but she’d been a fool to think she belonged in that world; that she could have a happily ever after with a man like that. Yaz had always promised herself she wouldn’t be so easily led. 

When had she broken that promise? 

More to the point, could it be mended?

“Look, I don’t know her,” said Martha, baring her palms to Yaz. “Maybe she’s different. All I can say is that, when I got out of that relationship and stopped relying on his ‘generosity’ and connections to get by, I’d never felt freer. Remembered my own worth, finally.”

Yaz thought of the audition JJ had set up for her, and all the thousand strings that now seemed to be attached to it. If she showed up, did that mean she somehow owed JJ? Did it mean accepting that she needed JJ and her money and her broad network of important friends just to realise her dreams and make her way in life? The whole point was that Yaz didn’t want to come to rely on JJ, and yet she’d become so comfortable with doing exactly that that she’d even let her send an obscene amount of money to her family. 

The longer she thought about it, the more she realised she’d been disarmed by JJ. Her alleged naivety, her life of glamour; the mind-blowing sex. She’d let it all get to her. 

Bill frowned. “You’re not really listening—”

“I didn’t come out tonight to talk about my ex sugar,” said Yaz, putting on a practiced air of indifference and shooting her friends a smirk. “Dunno about you two, but I came out to get smashed. Whose shout is it?”

Martha raised her hand. “That’ll be me.”

“Oh, now we’re talking,” Bill grinned. “Tequila slammers all around then, Doctor Jones!”

And, slowly but surely, smashed is exactly where they ended up. Mercifully, they didn’t talk anymore about JJ or about Martha’s frighteningly similar situation. In fact, Yaz did everything in her power to distract herself from it. 

Danced, drank; sang; flirted with people she wasn’t even interested in or, more accurately, let them flirt with her — mostly for the free drinks. It worked, for a while.

Then, a few hours later, she was at the centre of the dance floor when she spotted someone in the crowd and stopped short. Short, blonde hair. Same height. Dark blazer. Could it really be her? But then the woman turned around. Not JJ. Of course not. She wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like that. 

Nevertheless, the two of them locked eyes across the room and, when Yaz didn’t shy away, the woman smirked and started maneuvering her way through the mass of bodies towards her. The nearer she drew, the more not-JJ she turned out to be. She had a band tee on under her blazer and was wearing distressed skinny jeans. Also, she was probably a good decade younger than JJ. The differences didn’t stop there.

Unlike JJ, she was smooth and she was charming and she danced against her like she knew what she was doing. Nothing meek about the way she slid her hands across Yaz’s dress and nothing careful in the way she kissed her. 

Frustrated that all she could seem to do was count the ways in which they differed, Yaz decided she was going to put JJ out of her head altogether. Because that was the point, wasn’t it? Having fun, forgetting about one another; screwing other people? Admittedly, thus far, Yaz had spent most nights working and hadn’t given herself the chance to follow the directives she herself had set out. 

That had to change. 

Yaz took the woman to the bathroom. However, while Yaz’s hands were working between her thighs and she pulled away from her throat to watch the woman (she didn’t even know her name) come beneath the flickering fluorescents, she didn’t feel anything. Nothing except regret. Yaz let her return the favour, and then she pulled down her dress and left — perplexed. Unsatisfied. Bored.

Sex was a big part of Yaz’s life. She enjoyed it; it made her feel good. 

Usually. 

Considering that first encounter a fluke, Yaz kept trying. Night after night, she’d go out and drink until she was too wasted to think about JJ, and she would go home with people she didn’t care about, and she would screw them like she either loved them or hated them. Really, all she harbored for them was apathy. It made her want to scream. This had been her idea, so why wasn’t it working? 

Yaz missed the audition. 

Accidentally or on purpose, it didn’t matter. She’d never have gotten the part. Even if she had, it would just be one more thing she owed to JJ. It would be a step backwards. Granted, she wasn’t sure she was making progress anyway. 

In fact, she was spiralling.

Neon lights, artificial smoke; designer drugs; top shelf liquor; a succession of pretty people. It all helped until it didn’t.

Yaz couldn’t decide whether she missed JJ or hated her — because this was all for her sake. Everything she was going through was all one big effort to detox JJ from Yaz. To rehabilitate the addict. The fact that she hadn’t heard from her in so long meant that, where Yaz was failing, JJ must have been succeeding. Probably, she was out there moving on. Heeding Yaz’s advice. Putting herself first. 

Yaz really did want that for her. 

It was JJ, after all. 

JJ, who had an outright traumatic upbringing and still turned out so unbelievably kind and remarkable and sweet. JJ, who doted on Yaz to no end and gave her anything and everything she ever asked for and then some. JJ, who was a thousand leagues ahead of Yaz in every conceivable way. 

That, along with Martha’s story and her own stubbornness, kept Yaz from picking up the phone for so long. Sometimes, she called it selfish self-preservation. Sometimes, she called it looking out for JJ. Sometimes, she called it moving on.

In truth, it was cowardice. 

What if she called JJ and Yaz had been right all along; that, after some time apart, JJ had realised what an idiot she’d been to waste her time on Yaz? It seemed the most likely outcome. 

So, no matter how much she was dying to hear JJ’s voice and know how she was doing, Yaz kept putting it off and putting it off. She put it off for as long as she could. But, really, it was inevitable that she’d crumble. Just like it how it had been inevitable that she was going to turn around in the airport for one last look. Except, that day, JJ was already long gone. 

Whether history would repeat itself, only time would tell. 

And the time, precisely, was quarter to midnight. 

Yaz knew this, because the glowing clock on her oven was glaring at her from across the room. She was alone in bed. Alone and with a stranger. And the stranger’s head was between her thighs. 

Chest heaving, Yaz closed her eyes. The numbers on the digital clock were scored onto the darkness behind her eyelids but she wasn’t seeing those. No, what she saw, a split second before she went plunging over the edge, was a lop-sided grin. A pair of hazel-gold eyes. Soft, pink lips and clever fingers and a fair, athletic body she knew like the back of her hand. She saw JJ.

When Yaz came, she did so with those two initials pouring out of her mouth like honey — or else blood. 

She hardly even realised she’d done it until she opened her eyes. The woman between her legs (another blonde. Another older woman), lifted her head and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. She laughed and reminded Yaz of her actual name, but Yaz hadn’t heard it the first time and she didn’t care enough to listen the second time. 

“Can you leave?” asked Yaz. She was still on her back; still had her legs bent. 

The woman frowned, half amused and half uncertain, like she couldn’t tell whether Yaz was joking. “Excuse me?”

“Leave,” Yaz reiterated. “Get out. I’m done.”

“Are you fucking kidding?”

“Feel free to slam the door on your way out, babe. It doesn’t actually close properly otherwise.”

With an incredulous scoff, the woman hastily dressed herself, grabbed her things, and slammed the door in her wake. Yaz lay still for a while. She went back and forth on the decision in her head, but every time she talked herself out of it, she came up with another reason to go ahead with it and the internal debate would commence again. Round and round she went.

After a time, Yaz sat up on the edge of her bed and picked up her phone. Her thumb hovered above the call button. 

Logic said, _don’t do it._

The thin sliver of her heart that wasn’t selfish said, _don’t do it._

But JJ had left a piece of herself with Yaz when they’d parted. In her absence, it grew like a tumour grows. It became a voice in her head, a smiling face she could see when she closed her eyes, a presence Yaz felt strongest when she was either alone or about to make a rash decision. And it said, _do it._

Yaz hit call. 

Heart in her stomach, she held the phone to her ear and waited.

One ring in and she changed her mind. Two rings in and she changed it again. Three rings in, JJ picked up. Yaz’s heart was beating so fast during the silent few seconds that followed that she entertained hanging up and calling an ambulance instead. 

All it took was a single word to stop it altogether. 

“...Yasmin?”

JJ’s voice hit her like an aluminium bat to the ribs. She swore she heard them crack.

Yaz closed her eyes and wiped a single tear from her cheek. “Hi, Jamie,” she managed to croak. “How’s it going?”


	8. raggedy kid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of past abuse 
> 
> there's no smut in this one lads unfortunately. it's a very JJ-centric chapter and i'm not sure it'll be what anyone expects, but if u lot love JJ as much as I do then i hope u don't mind.
> 
> and I also sincerely hope that I handled the heavier aspects of this chapter with the care I was shooting for. if not, feel free to come to my home and deck me in the face. oh btw idk if it’s obvious but i’ve never proofread anything in my life.
> 
> enjoy x

After knowing what it was like to have Yaz, if only for a time, life without her was grey. 

Life was like an old black and white movie on a projection reel, flickering and silent. People’s mouths moved and no sound came out. And some of the frames must have been missing or damaged, because sometimes JJ would blink and time had passed. People would be looking at her as if waiting for her to say something. Do something. 

But she kept forgetting her lines. 

For the first couple of weeks, she found a way to bleed colour into the motion picture. She’d text Yaz. Every day. She’d tell her to have a good day, that she was thinking of her; she’d tell her how she was doing and that she wished Yaz was there with her. Yaz never replied, but she also never told her to stop. There was something to be said for that, JJ thought.

When Jack caught her red handed one day, he put an end to it. Yaz needed to live her life, he said, and so did JJ. JJ hadn’t realised she was getting in the way of that. Nevertheless, Jack had a better grasp on these kinds of things than she ever had. 

In an effort to cling to the colour slipping through her fingers at the total loss of contact, or at least find some way to distract herself from the suddenly achromatic nature of her existence, JJ tried various things. She threw herself into her work — flying between home and Paris — and hardly ever took a day off because she figured their time apart would go a lot faster if she occupied herself during every waking minute.

Using the account Bill had set up for her, she tried Tinder. That venture didn’t last long. She couldn’t understand the way people talked; the veiled meanings behind their words and the nonsensical strings of emojis and acronyms they used. When she received an unsolicited nude, she deleted the app. 

Once or twice, Jack took her out to a bar to cheer her up and, with any luck, meet somebody new. But none of them were right. Which is to say, none of them were Yaz.

And she knew she couldn’t go back to Yaz until she’d at least tried, but the mere idea of sleeping with somebody else made her uneasy. Candidly, all JJ wanted to do was show up at Yaz’s doorstep and beg her to reconsider. Dignity be damned. Except Yaz had yet to reach out to her, and she’d never replied to any of her countless messages, or made a single indication that JJ was on her mind at all. She was probably having fun. JJ didn’t want to be a hindrance to that.

It might have been easier if JJ at least had some way to check in on her, but even Bill had blocked Jack from social media after they left Paris — probably at Yaz’s request. There was no way for JJ to know if Yaz was okay. 

Almost no way. 

A few weeks after their farewell, JJ was in a coffee shop in the city; a quiet, hole-in-the-wall cafe where she sometimes went to work away from the office. She wasn’t _supposed_ to be working. It was the first day she’d had off in a while and Jack had implored her to take some time to herself. Lately, JJ didn’t really know what that meant. Technically, she wasn’t working in the typical sense. The project she had spread out on the table in front of her was something she’d been keeping to herself; something she wasn’t yet ready to unveil.

Her watch beeped and she grinned. Closing her notebook, JJ picked up her phone and made a call, fingers anxiously drumming the tabletop as it rang. The second the call went through, JJ sat up straighter in her chair.

“Donna? Hey, it’s JJ.”

“ _All right, JJ? I’ve not got long. I’m about to call someone in._ ”

“Not to worry,” said JJ, picking up her pen and clicking it incessantly. “I were just wonderin’ how Yaz’s audition went? Her slot were an hour ago, right?”

“ _Oh. Sorry, I thought you’d already know. Your girl no-showed.”_

JJ’s hand went still; her face fell. “She — are you sure? I — maybe she were just runnin’ late, or—”

“ _I tried to get hold of her on that number you left, but I can’t postpone my other auditions waiting for someone who can’t even be bothered to give us a call. Sorry, JJ._ ”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m sure she just…” Just what? This was the opportunity of a lifetime for someone with Yaz’s dreams. Why would she choose not to take it? JJ slumped. “I’m sorry for wastin’ your time, Donna.”

“ _Nah, not at all. Hopefully she’s okay._ ”

“Yeah. Hopefully.”

With a lump as solid as stone in her throat, JJ ended the call and scrolled through her contacts until she found Yaz. She stared at her name. Could something have happened to her, or did she just not want to attend the audition because JJ had set it up for her? Was this a rejection? A message? There was a chance she’d just forgotten, but JJ had a bad feeling. A tension in the invisible string that bound them. A fray, right in the centre. The snap was imminent. 

It was true that JJ felt like something was wrong, or that something bad was about to happen, quite often. She was a worrier by nature. But she couldn’t risk not knowing, could she? She also couldn’t risk that Yaz would see it was her calling and decline. 

JJ packed her things into her messenger bag and left. She headed towards her car, which she’d left in a car park a few blocks away, and convinced herself as she walked that it was perfectly acceptable to swing by Yaz’s home unannounced if she was doing so to ensure her wellbeing. Her safety came before anything else, right? 

She never made it to her car. 

As JJ was making her way down the high street, she passed a book shop. It was unusually bustling inside, and a flyer stuck to the window brought her to an abrupt halt. There was a book signing on for what looked like the latest in a series of children’s books. That wasn’t what made JJ stop. What made her stop was the name of the author, which was printed in bold serif font at the bottom of the poster. It was a name she immediately recognised. But, could it be? 

Glancing down the street in the direction of her car, JJ debating carrying on. She was on a mission, after all. Except, if this was who she thought it was, she couldn’t afford not to know. JJ decided to just poke her head in and take a look. In and out. 

The bell above the door signalled her entrance. Milling about amidst the bookshelves and the sofas were an abundance of kids of about eight or nine and their parents. A queue began at the doorway and curved around the wall and JJ joined the end of it. It would have been easy to walk ahead and steal a look, but suddenly her nerves were shot and taking the time to work herself up to the possibility of being wrong — or, more daunting, right — felt appropriate. Critical.

When she turned the corner, she knew it was her in a heartbeat. 

She was so much older, now. She’d swapped her tatty, red cardigan out for flannel and leather; the beat up old trainers with taped-over holes had been upgraded to Converse, but it was irrefutably her. Bright red hair. Fierce, hearty laugh. And that accent. 

Amelia Pond. 

A decades old time capsule she’d long ago sealed and buried leagues beneath the surface of her mind broke open — and so came bubbling forth a flurry of perfectly preserved snapshots, unsavoury mementos; relics of an intentionally forgotten slice of terrible history. The bubbles rose and popped in dizzying succession without respite or relief, each as visceral and as painful as the last. 

Raised fist. Bruised jaw. Blue and purple kids huddled together in the dark. Face in the dirt. Teeth on the concrete. A protective arm slung across a small body. Dry eyes. Laughing to survive. Stories of hope exchanged under cover of the night. 

Two against the universe.

Reaching hands torn apart, never to reunite. 

Slamming the capsule shut, JJ stumbled out of the queue. Her palms were sweating and her heart heeded no speed limits. She backed into someone. Or something. Books tumbled from shelves. JJ mumbled an apology; to whom, she couldn’t say. She thought she heard someone say her name but, over the sound of her supersonic pulse, it didn’t even register. 

JJ rushed towards the first door she saw. She stumbled out of the shop, onto a back street, and saw nothing but cobbles as she doubled over and gasped for breath with her hands on her knees.

Behind her, she heard the door open and close. 

“Brought you some water.”

Breathing hard, JJ turned to see Amy standing a few feet away carrying a plastic cup. There was a patient smile on her face. She didn’t come any closer than that. JJ straightened up. With shaking hands, she reached—

Torn apart. Never to reunite.

_Slam!_

—for the water. She downed the whole thing in one, before scrunching up the cup and tossing it into the nearby bin. Fear was such thirsty work. But what did she have to be afraid of anymore? JJ held onto the strap of her messenger bag with both hands and looked back at Amy with disbelieving eyes. 

“That’s you, isn’t it?” asked Amy. She took a slow, slight step closer.

JJ’s brows slanted upwards. “It — you remember me?”

“‘Course I remember you, you idiot,” Amy said with a wide smile. “How could I forget the raggedy kid?”

“The raggedy…” When JJ remembered the old nickname, something the other foster kids had called her because of how rough and unkempt she perpetually was, she couldn’t help but breathe a laugh. “But it’s been — if I were fourteen, then you must’ve been about eight the last time we saw each other, right? How do you — it’s been twenty years.”

“I remember it all, JJ. We lived together for over a year. It’s not a year I could easily forget, either.” Amy looked JJ up and down; took in her cashmere sweater, tailored trousers; the polished oxfords on her feet. “Not so raggedy anymore though, are you, eh?”

Stunned, JJ shook her head. “I can’t believe it’s you. After all this time…”

Amy made as if to move closer, but then stopped herself. “Um, are you gonna freak out if I try to hug you?” 

By way of answer, JJ strode forwards and barrelled into Amy’s arms with enough force to almost send them both tumbling to the ground. Amy laughed and wrapped her arms tight around JJ. She was taller than JJ now, which came as a shock. The last time they’d hugged, she’d been able to tuck Amy’s head beneath her chin. 

A lot had changed since the last time they’d hugged.

Amy pulled back, hands curled around JJ’s forearms, and looked her up and down again as if she still couldn’t believe her eyes. JJ was in the same boat. “I have so many questions.”

“Me, too,” seconded JJ. 

“Listen, I’m finished here in about half an hour,” said Amy, pointing her thumb over her shoulder at the bookshop. “You’re not busy, are you?” 

With a stab of guilt, JJ remembered that she’d been on her way to check in on Yaz. But, she reasoned, if there was something truly wrong then Bill would have reached out. In all honesty, JJ had been waiting for an excuse to go and see her — but an excuse is all it was. Besides, she hadn’t seen Amy in twenty years. She could be forgiven for wanting to catch up. 

JJ smiled. “Nah, I’m not busy.”

Whilst Amy wrapped up her signing, JJ waited in the shop and flicked through one of her books. She wasn’t surprised to find that they were fantastical, escapist books featuring a ragtag gang of child adventurers. It was just like the stories they used to make up as kids. One character in particular, JJ thought, bore a striking resemblance to the kid she’d been back then: a bit scruffy, always said the wrong thing; heart of gold; protected the younger ones from danger at all costs. Tried to, anyway.

Afterwards, they stopped at a pub around the corner and sat out in the beer garden with a pint each and a basket of fries to share. A few bees hovered in the air around them and a small dog leashed to an adjoining picnic table drooled at them, unblinking, whenever they lifted a fry to their lips. 

Amy told JJ the condensed story of her life, sans the first eight years. It was a good story. A couple of years after JJ was taken out of the house (that place was never a home) that they shared, Amy was adopted into a kind family. She started writing down all those tales she used to spin to get them through their worst nights and, when she got older, she published them to critical acclaim and great success. But that was never the goal. 

Amy published her stories because she hoped that, somewhere out there, her words would reach some other lonely kid looking for a way out. Looking for a way to get through the darkest days of their lives any way they could.

“I think it’s brilliant, what you’re doin’,” lauded JJ. “Really, you’re doin’ so well. I always wondered where — I mean, ‘cause after we got separated, I never heard from you and no one would put me in touch with you. A whole year we were thick as thieves and then just… nothin’. Strangers again.”

JJ made a point of avoiding looking up the kids she’d known in each of her foster homes, forever fearing the worst and believing ignorance was probably bliss. But Amy had always been tough. She was a survivor. It came as no surprise to see how well she was doing. 

Still, JJ had always carried with her a sense of regret at how everything went down in the end. The house they’d lived in, the couple that had fostered them, was without doubt the worst of them. They kicked JJ out when she became too much, but Amy stayed behind. And JJ never told anyone what happened in that house; never spoke of it to a soul. Ultimately, she left Amy to suffer. She hadn’t sought out help; hadn’t protected her — as she promised she always would. 

“Y’know, Amy, I really am sorry for how it all went,” rued JJ. She cast her eyes down guiltily, drawing lines through a ring of condensation with her finger. “I left you. I mean, they made me leave. I didn’t have a choice. But I could’ve done more to help you. I should have.”

Amy sighed. “JJ, really, it was twenty years ago. You were a kid yourself.” She reached across the table to give JJ’s hand a squeeze. “You don’t need to feel guilty about that. I was never angry at you.”

“But I didn’t—”

“I forgive you.” Amy fixed a pair of earnest eyes on JJ until, eventually, she nodded — accepting Amy’s forgiveness. “Besides, it's not like you didn’t try to get me out. Don’t you remember when we ran away?”

JJ scoffed. “Yeah, got as far as the train station, too. Before that copper stopped us.”

“Bastard bloody cop,” cursed Amy, but a fonder side of nostalgia tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You said you were gonna take me to Scotland. Take me home.”

“I would have done.”

“I know.” Amy plucked a fry from their tray and glanced at JJ as she chewed. “Anyway, what about you? Looks like you’re doing well. That’s a real Rolex, right?”

“Oh, um, yeah.” Sheepish, JJ fiddled with the strap of her watch. “I actually co-own my own architectural firm, now. Just opened a branch in Paris.”

“Well, check you! Not so rough and tumble anymore, are we?” 

“Yeah, I were lucky. Found a good family when I were fifteen,” divulged JJ. “Helped me screw my head on right.”

Amy paused. She curled her fingers around her glass and leaned in, head tilted sympathetically. “You’re still having your panic attacks, though. That’s what that was, back at the shop, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, no, I — I mean, yeah, a little one.” JJ waved a hand to dismiss Amy’s concerns. “I don’t get ‘em like I used to.”

When she was younger, it was a rare day indeed that JJ didn’t have an attack, shut down; even become totally nonverbal and find herself unable to speak for days at a time. With nobody else around to do it, Amy — eight year old Amy — took it upon herself to help her through those episodes. They really were one another’s only solace back then. 

“Are you seeing someone?” wondered Amy.

JJ almost choked on the beer she’d been sipping. She wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb. “Excuse me?”

“Christ, relax,” laughed Amy, rolling her eyes. JJ noticed that when she smiled now, she smiled freer. Like it didn’t hurt her to do it. Like she hadn’t forgotten, halfway through, what she was supposed to be happy about. “Definitely not tryna get in your tailored pants, raggedy kid. I meant, like, professionally. Do you see someone?”

“Oh. Um, no,” mumbled JJ, twisting the earring in her lobe. 

Amy frowned. “No? So, who do you talk to about what happened? How did you move on?” she asked. When JJ said nothing, Amy leaned back and a somber understanding found purchase behind her eyes. “You’re still dragging it around with you, aren’t you?”

The crease between JJ’s brows deepened. “No. I’m not.”

“So, why can’t you talk about it?”

“Because — because I just can’t!” asserted JJ. She jammed her hands between her thighs to keep from fidgeting with them or bouncing her leg and, while Amy waited with the same patient courtesy she’d always reserved for JJ, she took a deep breath to compose herself. “I just can’t talk about it, all right? Especially not to some stranger.”

Amy nodded. “Fair enough. But, hey, I’m no stranger. I was there.” She folded her arms atop the table. “What you’re pushing down, it’s a lot to repress, JJ. A _lot._ A whole year of — hell, do you remember what they—”

“Don’t.” JJ screwed her eyes shut. “Please, don’t.”

When she opened her eyes again, there was an awful sadness bearing on Amy’s face, weighing substantially on her brows and her downturned lips. “You really haven’t recovered at all, have you?” she asked. There was no judgement to her tone; only empathy. She understood like nobody else. “Twenty years is a long time to be shouldering that burden.”

Vision swimming with a sheen of moisture, JJ curled her fists and buried her nails into her palm. “You’re saying you’ve healed?”

“No one just heals from what we went through,” refuted Amy, “but it’s not so heavy anymore. I go to therapy. I write. Sometimes, I scream. I don’t let my past dictate my present or my future, because then they win. What about you, JJ? Are you winning, or are they?”

“I’m doin’ fine,” JJ insisted through gritted teeth. She blinked until the tears went away.

“Financially, sure. What about the rest of you?” Amy smiled to let JJ know she wasn’t attacking her. “Do you let it impact your personal life? Friendships? Relationships?”

Instantly, JJ’s mind went to Yaz. She thought of how much of a struggle it was to say no to her; to set clear boundaries for her own sake. She thought of how rapidly she’d latched onto her, clinging to her like a lifeline, and how devastated she was when Yaz left her behind — just like so many had done before her. Right from the day she was born. 

JJ came into the world screaming to be held. JJ came into the world alone. Passed from hand to hand like a consolation prize none wanted to claim, all JJ had ever wanted was for somebody to answer that infant cry that had gone unheard and ignored for so, so long.

She had Jack, and she had her family, and they had her heart. 

But JJ was human. 

What was more human than the need to be loved; to be taken into somebody’s arms and told, ‘You’re flawed. You’re damaged. Sometimes, you say the wrong things, and you react the wrong way, and there are days when you need a little extra care. But I choose you. And I’ll choose you every single day for the rest of my life’?

But had JJ really been placing a lifetime’s worth of loneliness on Yaz? She supposed she had. JJ had carved her raggedy, patchwork heart out of her chest and crammed it into Yaz’s hands and said, “Here. It’s your responsibility, now.” 

She realised now how profoundly unfair that was to her.

JJ thought her past was just that: her past. Now, she wasn’t so sure it didn’t still bleed into her present. For all she knew, her whole life was stained red with it. _One problem at a time, JJ._

“Well,” began JJ, “there is this girl…”

“Always a brilliant start to a story,” quipped Amy, finishing off the last of her pint. 

“She thought…” JJ picked at her cuticles and avoided eye contact. “She thought I put too much pressure on her. Cared more about her than anythin’ else. Said I — said I idolised her,” she confessed in an embarrassed mumble.

“Hm.” Amy rested her chin on her palm and took a moment to consider JJ’s revelation, fingertips drumming her cheek. “I take it you have a habit of doing that, yeah? Clinging desperately to anyone who comes into your life and shows you even the slightest bit of positive attention?”

“It’s — past exes have said similar things, I guess,” agreed JJ. “That I cared more about them than myself. And then when they leave…”

“You fall apart?”

“But it’s different with her. It really is.” In the short time that she’d known Yaz, JJ had felt more for her than she ever had for anyone else. Yaz kept insisting that it would fade, but all it ever seemed to do was grow in strength and size. Even their time apart hadn’t helped. If anything, it was worse, now. A beast she didn’t know how to tackle; one she was content to let pluck her up and eat her whole. “And she’s seen what I’m like. Y’know how I get. That never scared her away.”

“So, just ‘cause you found someone who wasn’t intimidated by your differences, you worshipped her for that? Like she must’ve been some kinda saint to stay with someone like you?” Amy shook her head. “I hate to break it to you, JJ, but all that makes her is baseline decent. Someone sticking around for you isn’t this big, miraculous thing. You deserve to be loved just as much as anyone else.”

“Um, actually, she didn’t — it were never really like that,” said JJ. 

“Well, what was it like?”

“It weren’t a relationship. She made sure I knew that.”

Realisation struck and Amy leaned back. “But you wanted more?”

JJ nodded sullenly.

“And she knew that? And kept screwing you anyway?”

“I mean…” JJ was on the cusp of defending her, but one look at Amy’s face told her she wasn’t interested in excuses. “Yeah. Yeah, she did. But I think, in the end, she’d developed feelings for me, too. She admitted it. Sort of.”

Amy spread her hands. “So, where is she? Not here, right?” 

“S’pose not,” murmured JJ, swilling the warm beer around in her glass until it frothed. She watched the bubbles rise and pop. 

“Ugh, JJ, your bar is _way_ too low. You’ve not changed much, have you?” Amy mused. “You always put everyone else first even then, when it meant you got hurt. When it meant you got beat. And the worst past about it was that I used to watch you take the fall for other people, put yourself between them and the danger, and you’d just take it. You’d never get angry. You pushed it down and pushed it down until you snapped. You still do that?”

A vision of Bill pressed up against a bathroom wall, of roaming hands and an incensed kiss that might have been more, pulled up a chair and raised an accusing brow at JJ. She shrugged.

“All right, I’ve heard enough,” announced Amy. She got to her feet. “C’mon, raggedy kid.”

Confused, JJ scrambled to her feet. “Where are we going?”

“We are getting you some much needed therapy, my friend.”

* * *

When JJ thought of therapy, she didn’t typically associate it with outdoor batting cages; of tennis machines and helmets and baseball bats. She and Amy stood inside the netting of an open-ended cage. At either side of them, identical nets were set up and people were batting balls way out across the field. For what possible reason, JJ was struggling to determine. She was the only adult she could spot wearing a helmet. Apparently, they were usually reserved for the kids — which explained the tight fit. 

She adjusted her helmet and squinted at Amy, who had just finished showing off her impressive swing and demonstrated the correct stance for JJ. She turned the tennis machine off with her remote and offered the bat to JJ. 

“See? Easy.”

“I still don’t understand what we’re doin’ here,” said JJ. She took the bat from Amy and frowned at it, holding it in both hands like a prize fish. 

“Look, when I get really cross — which is fairly often, I’ll admit — it helps to find outlets for my anger that don’t end up causing me to hurt myself or anybody unfortunate enough to be in my vicinity,” explained Amy. “Sometimes, JJ, hitting things with bats can be _extremely_ therapeutic. I mean, sometimes you’re visualising a person you really bloody hate instead of a ball, but that’s besides the point. So. Ready?”

“Uh, no?”

“Get set.” Amy pressed a button on her remote and stood back. “Go!”

JJ didn’t have enough sense to get herself into the correct stance, or even to lift her bat, before the first ball was ejected from the machine and came hurtling towards her. With a yelp, she just about managed to dive out of the way. The back of the net caught the ball and it rolled across the grass towards Amy’s feet. 

“You’re not supposed to — just aim and swing!” Amy reiterated.

“But why?” demanded JJ, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “I don’t understand!”

Amy paused the machine and sighed. “Your girl, what’s her name?”

“She’s not my… Yasmin. Yaz.”

“Okay. Think about something Yaz did to you that hurt you, yeah? Something you never let yourself get mad about,” Amy implored. “Think about it. And scream it. And hit the ball with everything you’ve got.”

JJ puffed out her cheeks. “This is ridiculous.”

“We’ll see. Ready?”

“I guess.”

This time, JJ was prepared. She spread her feet, rolled her shoulders, and raised her bat. It caught her off guard when, as the ball rocketed towards her, she didn’t even have to think very hard before shouting, “You always kissed me!” and swinging her bat with a force she didn’t realise she had. The bat connected and the ball went careening across the field.

“Now you’ve got it!” commended Amy. “Again!”

Another ball. A white knuckled grip. “You tried to kick me out of the Louvre!” She swung on the last word. This ball flew even further. 

And then again. 

“You lied about your feelings!”

With every ball, JJ hit harder and screamed louder. Amy stood at the sidelines, making no comments or judgements; only encouraging her while she worked through a list of all the things Yaz ever did that JJ let slide. 

Ultimately, JJ realised what she was most angry about was that Yaz led her on. She knew the extent of JJ’s feelings and still let it go on for so long, justifying it to herself by refusing to hear JJ out whenever she tried to discuss her feelings and therefore pretending they weren’t there. And then, when they finally became too large for her to dismiss — when that lead balloon in JJ’s chest broke out of her brittle body and crash landed at Yaz’s feet — she left her to deal with the fallout alone.

While Yaz probably didn’t even miss her, JJ was left with a gaping hole in her chest; desperately trying to fill the gaps Yaz had left behind with whatever she could stuff in there to make her feel whole again. Not that anything stuck. 

Amy was right. JJ had a lot more pent up inside than she realised. It felt liberating to let all out. Even if her throat was raw and her shoulders sore by the end of it.

Afterwards, they got ice cream from a shop next to the sports centre and sat on Amy’s truck bed in the parking lot to eat them. The evening sun, which burned low over the tops of the buildings, fanned fingers of orange and yellow across the sky whilst they leaned side by side against the cabin and tried to eat their cones before they could melt down their arms in the late August heat.

“So, how you feeling?” Amy wondered, dabbing an errant drop of strawberry ice cream from her waffle cone with the tip of her tongue.

“I feel… I feel lighter,” disclosed JJ. Her tone was steeped in surprise. She’d been trying so many different things in an effort to ease that awful weight on her shoulders, and in less than a few hours, Amy had managed to diagnose the problem and effectively treat it. For a time, anyway. JJ had a feeling it wasn’t due to last.

“I told you.” Amy nudged JJ’s arm. “Hitting things with a bat and screaming at the top of your lungs is, like, the best therapy there is.”

JJ licked the blueberry sherbet from her top lip and hummed. “D’you reckon we could do it again sometime?” 

“You wanna come back?”

“I — um, I think maybe I’m angrier than I realised,” confessed JJ. It didn’t stop with Yaz and it hadn’t started with her. If anything, Yaz was but a tiny scratch upon the surface — beneath which a lifetime’s worth of feelings JJ never let herself process or act on lay in wait. Dormant. Until they weren’t. JJ couldn’t afford to keep erupting; to keep leaving trails of devastation in her wake. 

Ever since she could remember, JJ had been liable to blow up without warning after so long spent pretending that she was managing the ugliness inside of her. As a child, it manifested itself in physical fights and violent explosions of rage. Her target was usually someone bigger than her. Older than her. She’d always lose and that didn’t matter. In fact, she preferred it. That way, she didn’t have to feel guilty when she limped away with a black eye and blood between her teeth. 

Her outbursts had always been self-destructive in nature. It wasn’t easy to live in fear of herself and of the countdown, like a time bomb, forever ticking towards the next apocalyptic event in the back of her head. A reminder that she would never be free of herself. Of the rot inside her. It wasn’t easy for others to deal with, either. It was part of the reason so few stayed. 

Even her latest eruption was, indirectly, the reason Yaz bid her adieu. She hurt her. In doing so, she hurt herself. JJ didn’t mind admitting that she was tired of hurting; tired of tainting every good thing in her life or else destroying it completely. 

She’d come to accept it as a fact of her life, as true and as inevitable as the beating of her heart, but what if that didn’t have to be the case? If there was a healthy way to channel it, JJ was going to grab it with both hands and run with it. Otherwise, it was only a matter of time until she did something from which there was no coming back. No redemption. 

“We can come back whenever you need,” offered Amy. She popped the last of her cone into her mouth and dusted her hands, pulling her knees up to her chest and eyeing JJ. “You know, I actually drive past that house sometimes. It’s pretty close. A twenty minute drive.”

Unintentionally, JJ clamped her hand a fraction too tight around her ice cream. The cone broke and vanilla ice cream spilled onto her hand and oozed down her arm. 

“Fuck,” JJ muttered, rolling the sleeve of her sweater up and tossing the fragments of cone onto the ground with a shake of her hand. 

“It’s okay, hang on.”

Amy jumped off the truck and opened the driver’s side door. She retrieved a rag from the glove compartment and handed it to JJ, crossing her arms over the side of the truck bed while JJ cleaned herself. 

“Um, sorry, I—”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Amy, shaking her head when JJ tried to hand her the rag and gesturing for her to drop it near the roll of tarp beside her. 

“Why do you — why would you go anywhere _near_ that place?” asked JJ. 

“‘Cause that way, it loses its power over me. For ages, in my memory, it was preserved as this house of horrors. I used to get nightmares about it all the time. But now, when I drive past…” Amy shrugged. “No one lives there anymore, I don’t think. It’s really run down and all the windows have newspapers over them. Maybe we could—”

“No,” blurted JJ. “No, I’m not — I can’t.”

“Okay, okay,” yielded Amy, holding up her palms. “You’re not ready, yet. That’s fine. I just worry that, if you’re murdering ice cream cones at the mere mention of it, it still has a pretty good hold on you.”

JJ hesitated. Amy wasn’t wrong that the very idea of that house still made her hands shake. In fact, their proximity to it was not lost on her. Wherever she was, she could tell you the exact number of miles between herself and the front door. She never let the number drop below three — even if it meant taking a longer route. “Maybe we could work up to it?”

“Works for me,” Amy agreed. She offered her hand to help JJ off the truck when she got to her feet. “A good start would probably be to talk about it.”

“Next time?” proposed JJ, thudding to the ground.

Amy gave JJ’s shoulder a sympathetic squeeze and pulled out her car keys. “Next time.”

* * *

After that first day, meeting up with Amy became something of a routine. Every few days, they’d either bat balls, exercise, or run together and try to work piecemeal through all the infinite unspeakable darknesses JJ had been holding on to for so long. Once, Amy even took JJ to a boxing gym so that she could beat the hell out of a punching bag. 

Jack came along a few times, both for support and because he sincerely enjoyed watching JJ lose control in a controlled environment. He and Amy bonded quickly over easier to swallow anecdotes about JJ in her youth. This chagrined JJ to no end. Or, at least, she acted like it did. Really, JJ was glad to have two people in her corner who cared enough to commit to helping her where she had failed to help herself. 

Actually addressing her more severe traumas was a lot more slow going than anticipated. Sometimes, she clammed up. Sometimes, she started to panic and had to call it quits for the day. Amy was always on hand to help her through it, though. No matter what. 

Eventually, JJ found that she was able to open up about some of the things that had happened to her, and Amy helped her realise how they were still affecting her to this day and suggested ways to deal with it. 

She got the urge to reach out to Yaz a lot. When that happened, she’d channel it another way. Even though there was some residual anger over how it all went down, none of it changed the way she felt about her. JJ missed her terribly. Resisting Yasmin Khan was the hardest thing she’d had to do in a long time. With Amy’s help, it was a little easier — but a little bit easier still meant unbearably difficult. 

She assumed it wasn’t a mutual sentiment. 

They hadn’t seen one another in over a month. JJ had been working all day, and then she’d gone to the batting cages with Amy. They’d driven past their old house on the way home. Almost, anyway. They were one turning away from the street when JJ had forced them to stop, unable to carry on without panicking. Still, it was closer than she’d gotten in two decades. They were making remarkable progress. 

When she got home that day, she was physically and emotionally taxed. She watched Peter Pan, and she thought about Yaz, and she fell asleep. 

At midnight, she was awoken by her phone ringing. 

When Yaz’s name and picture — one she’d taken of her one morning in Cuba, when she’d been lounging in bed wearing nothing but her underwear and one of JJ’s jumpers — appeared on screen, she thought she was still dreaming. 

Straight away, JJ assumed that something awful must have happened. Why else would Yaz be calling her in the middle of the night after a month of radio silence? She didn’t think twice about it before accepting the call, sitting up and switching on the lamp at her bedside. Her mouth was dry and her voice groggy when she tentatively spoke Yaz’s name. 

“Yasmin?”

“ _Hey, Jamie._ ” Yaz’s greeting came out strained. Attuned as she was to every slight variation and infliction of Yaz’s voice, JJ could sense immediately that there was something off about it. “ _How’s it going_?”

JJ jumped out of bed, ready to grab her shoes and run out of the door in a moment’s notice. “Are you okay? Has somethin’ happened?”

“ _Wh — oh, no. I’m fine._ ”

Some of the tension in JJ’s body dissipated, but she couldn’t shake the bad feeling in her gut. She paced beside her bed. “Not that I’m not overjoyed to hear your voice, Yaz, but why are you callin’?”

“ _I don’t… I were just thinking about you, that’s all. Wondered how you were doing_.”

JJ pulled her phone away from her ear to check the time. The brightness made her squint. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“ _I know. Sorry, you were probably sleeping. I should_ —”

“No, no. I wasn’t,” JJ cut in hastily. She stopped pacing. This was exactly the kind of thing Amy was trying to help her work through: lying to protect others’ feelings at the expense of asserting herself. At the expense of her own needs. She took a deep breath. “Actually, um, that’s a lie.”

Yaz was quiet for a few seconds. “ _Do you want me to let you get back to sleep_?”

JJ combed a hand through her already messy hair. Though Yaz couldn’t see her, she shook her head. “How’ve you been, Yasmin?” she asked, making her way towards the kitchen. She probably wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep now, anyway. 

“ _Uh, great. Yeah, I’ve been — I’ve been really great_ ,” claimed Yaz.

JJ’s heart took a deep dive. She wanted Yaz to be happy, of course, but she couldn’t help but envision a string of nameless, faceless people keeping her bed warm in JJ’s absence. She couldn’t help but credit Yaz’s happiness to her separation from JJ; from her trauma and her baggage. It pained her to admit it, but JJ was going to have to keep her well clear of all that until she’d made some more headway in healthily dealing with it.

“I’m glad to hear it,” JJ said. She filled her kettle and switched it on, plucking an Earl Grey tea bag from the pot and grabbing a mug from the cupboard which she remembered, with a pang, Yaz had once left a lipstick stain on. “Um, I heard you missed the audition.”

There was an indeterminate sound on Yaz’s end. The rustling of sheets, maybe. Was Yaz in bed? In bed and thinking of JJ? “ _I got sick, actually. I should’ve called them. Sorry, babe._ ”

“It wasn’t — you weren’t tryna send me a message?”

“‘ _Course not_.”

JJ breathed a sigh of relief. The missed audition had been the source of a great deal of stress; she’d spent an untold amount of time fretting over what it might mean and wondering if her decision not to swing by that day had been a mistake.

The kettle came to a boil and JJ poured the steaming water into her mug. 

“ _Are you making tea_?”

“I am.”

“ _Earl Grey_?”

JJ smiled. “Yeah. Earl Grey.”

She thought she could hear Yaz’s smile, too, when she said, “ _Are you gonna add a disgusting amount of sugar to it, an' all_?”

“It is _not_ disgusting,” refuted JJ, face scrunched comically. “I just have a predisposition towards the sweeter things in life.” She only just stopped herself from tacking on a ‘like you’ to the end of her sentence. Even she knew that would have been grossly cliche and, given their current circumstances, inappropriate.

Yaz chuckled. She paused for a long moment. “ _Kinda miss that smell, actually._ ”

JJ bobbed her tea bag with a small frown. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You sound… dunno. Different.”

“ _Like I said, I’ve been sick. Probably still recovering,_ ” reckoned Yaz. “ _Anyway, tell me what you’ve been up to._ ”

“Actually, I’ve been workin’ through some stuff with an old mate. Someone I knew when I were a kid. She’s brilliant.” JJ scooped out her tea bag and tossed it into the bin, before proceeding to heap a mountain of sugar into her mug. “She’s helpin’ me in so many ways, Yaz. Teachin’ me how to manage my feelings before they get on top of me. Y’know how they have a habit of doin’ that.”

“ _That’s amazing, JJ._ ”

“It is. I think you’d like her, actually.” JJ carried her mug to the breakfast bar and sat down. “She’s a bit like you. Says things how they are.”

“... _Are you sleeping with her_?”

JJ stilled. Was Yaz jealous? Surely not. It was Yaz, after all, who’d implored her to see other people. JJ didn’t think she had any right to be jealous — even if a part of her she wasn’t proud to claim kind of wanted her to be. “Um, no. Like I said, she’s a mate.”

“ _It’s okay if you are.”_

“I said I’m not,” repeated JJ. She dragged a hand across her face with a weary sigh. “I’m still waiting for this to get easier, Yaz. Is it easy for you?”

“ _I_ _wouldn’t be calling if it were, would I, babe_?”

“Christ, I think about you all the time, y’know?” JJ’s vision began to blur. “ _All_ the time. I miss you so much, Yasmin. Y’don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to call you.”

She heard Yaz take an uneven breath. “ _Why didn’t you_?”

JJ wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “I wasn’t — I’m still not where you need me to be.” 

“ _Maybe I were wrong_ ,” whispered Yaz. “ _Maybe you already were._ ”

“I…” JJ so badly wanted that to be true. Before she met Amy, she’d have believed it. As it was, a mirror had been held up to her face in recent weeks and she’d been shown all the cracks in the face she wore. They ran deep. She dropped her forehead onto her palm. “No, you were right. I’m a mess, Yaz. And I’m workin’ on it, but it isn’t easy.”

“ _What if I said I didn’t mind your mess_?”

Lower lip pulled between her teeth, JJ tapped the handle of her mug. “Yasmin… have you been drinking?”

“ _No,_ ” denied Yaz. “ _I stopped drinking, like, an hour ago_.”

JJ slumped. So, this was why she called. Yaz was drunk, probably horny, and missing having someone around who worshipped her. In all likelihood, she didn’t mean a word she was saying. JJ felt an idiot for believing any different. 

“ _JJ, what if_ —”

“Yaz, you can’t do this to me,” croaked JJ. This time, she didn’t bother drying her eyes before she felt a hot tear tracking her cheek. 

“ _I can’t do what_?”

“You know for a fact that, if you asked me to come over right now, I’d be there in a heartbeat. So, I’m gonna ask you not to do that. Please,” JJ pleaded. “I don’t ask you for much, Yaz, but I need you to do this one thing for me.”

“ _Why? I thought this is what you wanted_.”

“It is. Believe me, I want it more than anythin’. But if we rush back into things right now, when none of our issues have been resolved, it’ll all fall apart just like it did last time. Maybe you’ve had enough time to stamp out your feelings—”

“ _Jamie—_ ”

“But mine are still… god, Yaz, mine are still a monster.” A teardrop fell from JJ’s chin and landed in her tea. She shoved it away. “I’m tryna deal with it. I’m tryna put myself first, and I’m beggin’ you to let me. ‘Cause I think you’re doin’ just fine without me, aren’t you?”

“ _Right_ ,” mumbled Yaz. “ _Yeah. Never better, babe_.”

Though she’d been expecting it, the admission still hit JJ like a blow to the back of the head. Never better. Why wouldn’t she be? “That’s what I thought,” sighed JJ. “All of this was your idea, remember? You wanted distance. You wanted time away from me. Well, I’m givin’ it to you. When you’ve sobered up, you’ll be glad.”

“ _I’m really not that drunk._ ”

“Then why did you call?”

“ _Because… I guess I just wanted to hear your voice. It’s been a while._ ”

“Yeah.” JJ lowered her eyes. “It has.” 

JJ wasn’t positive, but she was almost certain she heard Yaz sniffling. Still recovering from her convenient illness, or was it something else entirely? 

“If somethin’ were wrong, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

“ _Nothing’s wrong, babe. You’re doing well — that’s all I wanted to know_ ,” assured Yaz. Her tone lacked conviction. “ _I’m glad you’re finding a way to heal, Jamie. The last thing I want is to get in the way of that. You deserve to recover.”_

JJ would have been lying to say there wasn’t a microscopic sliver of her that had been hoping Yaz would ignore her pleas and tell her to come over anyway, but that was the part of her she was still contending with; the part of her she was trying to smother. If Yaz told JJ to destroy herself for her sake, she’d do it _—_ and what good would that do anyone? 

Denying Yaz wasn’t something JJ ever imagined she’d be able to do, and it wasn’t something that brought her any joy, but she knew it was necessary. She was saving Yaz from the ghosts of her past. She was saving herself from total self-destruction. 

“ _You know I never wanted to hurt you, right_?” Yaz’s voice was so small that JJ had to turn up the volume. “ _I didn’t set out to do that. Really._ ”

JJ hung her head. “I know you didn’t. That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt, though.”

“ _Yeah. No, I guess not._ ”

“Y’should get some water and go to bed, Yasmin,” advised JJ, though she’d have loved nothing more than to sit up talking to her all night. “It’s late, and y’sound tired. Take some painkillers, yeah? Is your heating working? It’s gonna be a cold—”

“ _You don’t need to worry about me, babe. I’ll find a way to stay warm._ ”

With a furrowed brow, JJ lifted her head. Had Yaz meant for that to come across the way it did? Was she hurt? It was even more impossible to read Yaz over the phone than it was in person. “Yaz, are you—”

“ _You’re right, I should be going. Sweet dreams, JJ._ ”

“Um. Right, yeah. Good—” the line went dead and JJ, flummoxed, frowned at the phone in her hand— “...night.”

* * *

Yaz didn’t reach out again after that.

JJ kept wondering if she should have called her back, or even called Bill, just to make sure she was all right. The phone call left her feeling uneasy. But then, what didn’t? She thought she’d spare Yaz’s pride and pretend, for both their sakes, that her drunk dial never happened. 

Still, there wasn’t a day that passed that she didn’t wonder what might have happened if she had showed up at Yaz’s house that night. Had everything she said really just been the product of inebriation? She said she didn’t mind her mess, but the last time they spoke, JJ’s mess had been the catalyst to the breakdown of their relationship. Their not-relationship. 

Needless to say, the conversation left her feeling more confused than ever. For the most part, she convinced herself it had been a lonely booty call and nothing more. But there remained an unreasonably optimistic part of her, niggling at the back of her mind, that suggested maybe Yaz just missed her. 

Could it not be as simple as that? 

Was JJ not worthy of being missed?

Rather than spend an outrageous amount of time agonising over it, she took it to the batting cages and she hit it out of the park. Amy’s reassurance that she did the right thing was a help, too. But they didn’t dwell on it. There was another matter that demanded their attention.

It was another couple of weeks before, after a lot of working up to it, JJ finally managed to visit their old house. She asked Jack to come along with her and Amy — just in case. In case of what, JJ had no idea, but she always felt safer when he was around. She made him slow his car right down to a crawl when they turned the last corner onto the street. All the alarms in JJ’s head were going off. Every single atom of her body was bogged down with reluctance and fear and her every instinct told her to turn back. Why would she come back here? She got out.

But she’d come this far. She’d kick herself if she didn’t see it through. So, she clenched her fists and gritted her teeth and took a series of deep breaths with her eyes closed. She didn’t open them again until the car slowed to a stop. 

Her heart was in her mouth and she might well have choked on it when her vision readjusted and she realised they’d stopped right in the driveway. From the back seat, Amy put her hand on her shoulder and Jack laced his fingers through hers. JJ leaned marginally forwards and looked out through the windshield. 

The house was a red brick two storey affair with a small garden out front enclosed by a tall, stone wall (easier to hide the terrors within). JJ had never seen the garden so overgrown and abundant with weeds. Theirs had been a meticulous lawn with not a blade of grass out of place, else there would have been hell to pay. The windows in the house were caked in grime and plastered with newspapers; JJ could make out chips in the brickwork and a hole in the awning over the small porch. 

JJ stared at it. The longer she did, the less menacing it looked. Amy was right. It was run down, pathetic, and so much smaller than she remembered it. In her mind, the house loomed over her like a giant. A behemoth she used to imagine would take a step forward and crush her, if not eat her alive. 

But it was just a house. An empty house.

A haunted house.

Nodding as though to convince herself of her safety, JJ took a composing breath and opened the car door. She stepped out into a brisk September day. Birds were singing, the grass was damp with recent rainfall; the sun was trying, and failing, to find a parting in the clouds to reach them through. 

Jack and Amy followed her out, coming to stand at either side of her in front of the hood of Jack’s car. They all three craned their necks to take in the decaying house. 

“Just bricks and mortar,” said Amy.

But was it?

“Some of the worst things that ever happened to me happened in that house,” JJ murmured. She tugged at the strings of her old Cambridge hoodie anxiously, half expecting the door to slam open and for a heavy pair of boots to come blitzing across the garden towards her. 

“We can leave whenever you want, Jamie,” Jack reassured her. “Just say the word.”

Amy started towards the house. Purely by reflex, JJ grabbed her hand to hold her back. Turning to face her, Amy offered an encouraging smile and squeezed her hand. 

“We’re safe, yeah? No one’s lived here in a long time, JJ.”

After a moment’s delay, JJ nodded her head. Amy led the way along the driveway and up the few steps to the front door with JJ and Jack in tow. A grim vision ambushed JJ when the sole of her shoe found purchase on the first step: a dirty, sodden child of thirteen shivering on the doorstep all night because she’d missed curfew, trying to steal moments of sleep through the biting cold and horizontal rain. She shook the image out of her head.

Amy’s hand was unsteady when she tried the handle. Locked. 

“Step back,” Jack instructed. 

JJ looked between them both. “Wait, what’s happening?” 

“We’re facing our demons together,” announced Amy. “Today. You and me.”

Though JJ was still confused, she let Amy guide her backwards and put her arm around her while Jack kicked the door in. She flinched when it slammed against the interior wall, and Jack winced at her apologetically. 

“Sorry, kiddo.”

“Did you bring them?” Amy asked. 

“I did. Hold on ladies.”

While Jack jogged back over to the car, JJ turned away from the house. She refused to look in through the open door. Instead, she kept her eyes stubbornly trained on the garden. On the weeds. Some of them, she remarked, looked deceptively like flowers. White clovers, daisies; buttercups; wild violets. Beautiful, destructive things bred from ruin and disrepair. JJ mused at how tragic it was to feel a kinship with weeds.

Jack returned carrying two aluminum baseball bats. He handed one to Amy and one to JJ. JJ accepted hers with a fissure between her brows. 

“What do we need these for?”

“We aren’t just facing our demons today, JJ. Oh no,” grinned Amy, slapping the side of her bat. “We’re beating them to death.” 

“I — we’re goin’ inside?” JJ took a frightened step back. 

Jack put his hand on her back. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do. We just thought, since you’ve responded so well to swinging bats and beating the shit out of punching bags, it might help to apply a similar tactic here.”

“If you’re not ready, we can always come back when you are. _If_ you are,” proposed Amy. 

JJ looked down at the bat in her hand. There would be a certain comfort in carrying a blunt object with her into the house. Besides, she was with people she trusted, and she felt like this was something she had to do. One more hurdle to clear on the never ending road to recovery. Tightening her grip on the handle, JJ steeled herself and nodded. 

“I’ll be right out here if you need me,” said Jack. “This is something the two of you ought to do alone. But I’ll holler if the feds come, huh?” he quipped, squeezing JJ on the shoulder with a wink. “Go get ‘em, champ.”

With that, Amy took JJ’s hand. Together, they headed inside.

The house didn’t smell like it used to. That’s what JJ noticed first. It smelled like dust and age and vacancy. When she lived there, it smelled chemical. Like bleach, cleaning products; sterility. Surprisingly, it looked largely the same. The wallpaper in the hallway was the same garish yellow, if several degrees more faded and filthy. To the right of the hallway, the stairs were draped in that same thin carpet. It was torn in parts, now, having been attacked by rats and other small creatures. Underfoot, the floorboards creaked and cringed. 

When they passed the cupboard under the stairs, JJ’s footsteps faltered. She backed up. “I — I don’t know if I can do this,” she stammered. 

“Do you want to leave?” 

JJ took several shaky breaths and eyed the cupboard door. “I don’t think so. It’s just — it’s a lot.”

Amy followed her gaze. She swallowed thickly. “It is a lot.”

Realising then that they were both in this together, and that Amy was likely feeling all the very same things she was, JJ made the decision to not back down. They both needed this. It had been a long time coming. JJ blew out her cheeks. Twisting the handle of the bat in her hands, she stepped slowly up to the cupboard and, forcing herself to be braver than she felt, opened the door. 

It was nothing but a small cubby hole. Empty — save for the spider webs and the bare bulb hanging from a wire. What had she been expecting? 

JJ’s throat may very well have been full of cobwebs, too, for how croaky and dry her voice sounded when she spoke next. “It’s just a cupboard,” she muttered, and the house groaned its dissent. 

“Just a stupid bloody cupboard,” agreed Amy. 

They looked at one another with renewed determination on their faces. 

“I don’t wanna be a victim to this place anymore, Amy,” JJ said. She was done living under the weight of that house. Today, she was going to reclaim her ghost from between the walls and the old, rotten bones; she was going to take herself back and never give herself up like that again. “Let’s keep goin’.”

The first doorway led them into the living room. JJ got a shock when she walked in. A lot of the furniture was still there, and it made JJ wonder precisely what became of the monsters, with their human masks, who once stalked this place with dead eyes and hands built only to harm. Whatever had happened here, the identical arrangement of the sofas, the table; the shelves made her nauseous. The only thing missing was the TV and the picture frames. Even the crack in the wall was still there. Amy winced when she saw it.

“Are you okay?” JJ asked.

Switching her bat from her left hand to her right, Amy squared her shoulders. “Know what I always hated?”

“What?”

“This stupid fucking coffee table,” she spat. It was an open, rectangular coffee table of mouldered wood. They were never allowed their feet on the table, they were never allowed to put drinks down on it or eat at it; they had to dust it several times a week. If but a mark or a speck of dirt was found during one of the rigorous inspections, the punishment was unfailingly severe. 

Amy lifted her bat. Upon realising what she was about to do, JJ put a wide berth between herself and the table. The wood was far softer than it used to be. Amy brought her bat down against it over and over again until it splintered and broke under the weight, and she shouted something JJ didn’t quite catch as it fell apart at her feet and sagged inwards pitifully. She spat on its remains and JJ’s eyebrows drifted to her hairline. 

When Amy turned, there was a satisfied smirk playing over her lips. “Always wanted to do that,” she confided. “Your turn, raggedy kid. What do you hate about this place?”

JJ’s eyes instantly fell over the tiny stool in the corner of the room. The ‘naughty chair’ she was sure wasn’t supposed to seat anyone older than the age of six. Lifting her bat, JJ crossed the room and came to a standstill beside it. 

Channelling untold hours of pain, discomfort, and humiliation, JJ filled her lungs and brought her bat down with incredible force on the exhale. The seat cracked down the middle and one of the legs snapped off. Not enough. She brought the bat down again. Again. Again. “We were children!” she screamed, and brought her bat down for a final time. With a heaving chest, she stood over the splintered ruins. 

“How’s that feel?” wondered Amy.

“Feels like I’m just gettin’ started.”

They moved through the house. Their next victim was a glass cabinet that once housed priceless crockery that they weren’t allowed to breathe near. A child-sized cupboard under the kitchen sink earned their special attention, too. And the bath. They both went ham on the bath. They screamed and shouted and kicked and spat while they ruined the house that had tried to ruin them. Tried, and failed. Because it did. It failed. Neither JJ nor Amy were broken. They weren’t damaged goods. They were survivors. They came out victorious. 

Everything and anything in the tiny room that they, and others, once called a bedroom got smashed to smithereens. Soon, it stopped mattering whether there were bad memories attached to any specific thing. It was in the house; therefore, it was fair game.

They broke the bed frames, and the bookshelves, and the windows, and the drawers, and the walls. They booted the doors off their hinges and used them as trampolines. A certain amount of mania generated from relief started to take over. Rage and adrenaline charged them; carried them up the ladder towards the attic. JJ never thought she’d be able to step foot in the attic again, but it was as if she was moving on autopilot. The child she once was took over, and that child had a lot of bones to pick. 

Everything in the attic got beaten to dust. They pulverised it all. Blew the bulbs. Broke the boards and the beams. JJ smashed the oeil-de-boeuf with an almighty swing of her bat and watched the glass tumble from the roof and onto the garden below. 

They were bulldozers. They were indiscriminate — burning up the fuel of an old wrath drop by drop each time their bats or boots or fists connected. 

By the time they made their way out into the back yard, rubble and dust coated their hair and skin and clothes. JJ had a gash on her cheek inflicted by a shard of glass from an old, cracked mirror she’d put out of its misery. She couldn’t feel it; didn’t even realise she was bleeding. After the shed, their final target was the dog house. 

The bastards never even had a dog. 

Amy and JJ went sick on it. With that final piece of the house becoming but splinters and fire fodder at their feet, JJ felt something inside of her dislodge: a bullet from a long-ended war that she hadn’t realised had been jammed between her ribs this entire time. And yet, now that it had been removed, she realised that her every breath had been agony for years — only, she hadn’t remembered what it felt like to breathe easier. Until now.

With dirt streaking her skin, and blood running down her face, she breathed easier. They both stood back. JJ’s bat clattered to the ground. Amy headed over to the demolished shed and rifled through the boards until she found an old can of lighter fluid. 

Silent, JJ watched her douse the dog house and pull a pack of matches from her pocket. She struck one against the box and dropped it onto the wreckage. It went up in flames.

“Got it?” asked Amy.

“Right here.” From her trousers, JJ pulled out an old photograph they’d found in one of the drawers in the master bedroom. A woman and a man, stony-faced and stiff, glared back at them. The woman was all sharp edges and pointed brows; the man wore a dark purple suit. His eyes were pitch black under the jut of his thick brows. 

JJ tore the photograph down the middle and handed a piece to Amy. They dropped their respective halves into the fire. In seconds, their two dimensional faces melted and the gloss was incinerated. 

And that was it. 

It was over.

The birds were still singing, the wind still rustled the hedges and the trees; the sun was still trying to elbow her way through the canopy of clouds. The world hadn’t ended. For all JJ knew, it had only just begun. 

JJ sat on the ground, hands in her hair, and cried. Amy cried, too. She sat right beside her with her arm around her and they cried, while the bonfire made shooting stars or rivulets of lava of their tears. It wasn’t sadness. It wasn’t self-pity, or remorse. It was relief. Unencumbered relief. JJ cried until the river ran dry and she vowed to herself that this would be the last time she ever shed a single tear for that place.

Because it wasn’t really for the place at all. It was for herself. For the person she was, the person she managed to become, in spite of it. 

Once they put the fire out (though JJ was tempted to set the whole place alight and burn it to the ground), they picked their way over shattered glass and broken furniture towards the front garden — where Jack was waiting to give them both a hug. They stopped in front of the car and gave the house one last look. 

“Anything you wanna say?” asked Amy.

JJ shook her head and opened the car door. “No,” she said, resolute. “Not a thing.”

* * *

The destruction of that house brought about an unprecedented peace of mind JJ hadn’t known in a long time. Her head felt clear, as if all the fog had spilled out of it and, for the first time, she could see the road ahead. She could see the stars and the twinkling lights of a brighter future on the horizon. 

For the next few days, whenever she wasn’t working, JJ spent her time adding to and amending the side project she’d been working on for a while. She felt different. Brand new. It galvanised her.

The only issue was that, due to how intensely she got wrapped up in her obsession with the project, she’d sometimes forget to sleep or would keep putting it off until sunlight pooled across her hardwood floors and the city far below began to groggily rise from slumber with tired hum of engines and the distant yawn of traffic. 

On one such night, JJ was working avidly at the kitchen table. It was gone two in the morning. She buzzed with caffeine, sugar, and excitement and was completely lost in the scratch of pen on paper — until the phone rang. The shrill sound wrenched her from her all-encompassing trance and flung her back into the room. Starting, she looked around and checked her watch. When had it gotten so late?

JJ picked her phone up off the table. The instant she saw Bill’s name on screen, she knew something was wrong. She shot to her feet, almost knocking her chair back in the process, and held the phone to her ear. “What happened?”

“ _JJ? Christ, thank god_.” Bill was shouting over loud music thumping in the background and a clamour of indistinguishable voices. “ _You’re at home, yeah? You’re not in Paris_?”

“I’m home, Bill,” JJ replied impatiently. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“ _Uh, I really hate to do this, mate. It’s Yaz_ ,” started Bill. JJ stopped breathing. “ _She’s — look, I think she’s been spiked. She’s not in a good way._ ”

JJ raced towards her bedroom. “Is she ill? Pale?” she quizzed, grabbing a jacket from her wardrobe and yanking it on over her top. “Are her lips blue?”

“ _Nah, she’s just fucked, mate_.”

“She…” JJ stopped and thought about the situation from a rational point of view. If Yaz wasn’t in immediate danger, she couldn’t imagine why she’d want JJ showing up. More to the point, Bill was already there with her. There was nothing JJ could do for her that Bill couldn’t. “Look, y’should just take her home and keep a close eye on her. That’s the safest bet.”

“ _Yeah, I would, but she’s lost her keys. And she’s — mate, she’s refusing to go anywhere until_ …” 

“Until?” urged JJ.

Bill sighed. “ _She’s asking for you, JJ._ ”

JJ swiped her keys from the desk and headed for the lift. “Where are you?”

* * *

Pushing to the front of the queue outside the venue, JJ shoved a handful of twenties into the bouncer’s hand to sate him and barrelled past him into the club. She forced her way carelessly through the sweaty mass of people moving to an inconveniently timed crowd pleaser until she reached the door to the smoking area at the back of the building. 

The smoking area was an indoor room with a chimney in the ceiling, which did little to lessen the stale smoke lingering in the air, and several seats and picnic benches arranged around the edges. Fortunately, it was quieter and far less packed than the club itself. 

She spotted Bill and Yaz at a picnic table in the corner of the room. Yaz was slumped over the table with her head resting on her forearms and Bill was sitting next to her, rubbing her back and talking in her ear. A thin crowd of do-gooders and nosey patrons had formed around them. JJ barged straight past them all and called Bill’s name. 

“Oh, thank fuck,” said Bill. 

JJ crouched down beside Yaz. “Is she okay? Yaz, can you hear me?”

Yaz mumbled something without lifting her head. 

“Yaz, JJ’s here,” said Bill, gently shaking Yaz’s shoulder. “Look. Your sugar’s come to save you, mate.”

Carefully, JJ lifted Yaz’s head in both her hands. Yaz looked back at her with blown pupils — which JJ expected. What she hadn’t expected to see was how much weight Yaz had lost. Her cheekbones were far more prominent than last she’d seen them and, even through her makeup, JJ could make out the dark bags under her eyes. 

“Why are you here?” slurred Yaz. 

“You said you wouldn’t leave ‘til she got here, mate, remember?” Bill reminded her.

JJ shelved her concerns about Yaz’s broader wellbeing for the moment. “I’m gonna take you home, Yaz, all right? Nice warm bed, how’s that sound?”

Yaz pulled her head away from JJ. “I’m not leaving.”

“Actually, I think you are. C’mon.” JJ stood up and gestured for Bill to do the same while she put her arm around her. Together, they managed to peel Yaz off the bench and get her to her feet, though she was forced to lean heavy on JJ for balance. 

JJ had imagined seeing Yaz again for the first time so often and never, in any of her fantasised scenarios, had it been anything remotely like this. She and Bill led Yaz out of the smoking area and through the club. As they passed the bar, Bill’s gaze hitched on something to JJ’s right and she cursed under her breath. 

“Think that’s the guy,” she said. 

“What guy?”

Bill nodded towards a young man at the bar standing with his friends. Both his shirt and trousers looked a size too small and the sides of his hair were all shaved off. “He was tryna chat Yaz up all night. Hovering around her even when she told him to do one.” 

Fishing her car keys out of her pocket, JJ handed them to Bill and transferred Yaz’s weight to her side. “My car’s out front. Blue Royce. Can you just get her in?”

“What you doing?”

“I’ll be right out.”

Whilst Bill walked Yaz towards the exit, JJ approached the bar and tapped the man on the shoulder. He turned, looked JJ up and down, and smirked. “Yeah?”

“What did you give her?”

“Oi?”

“The girl you spiked,” elucidated JJ. Her face had gone dark; her eyes bleak and unforgiving. “What did you give her?”

“Dunno what you’re on about, love,” he sniggered — and all of his friends joined in. 

He turned back towards the bar and, really, JJ was glad he gave her the excuse. She tapped him on the shoulder once more. With a dramatic sigh, he started to turn around. He opened his mouth, no doubt to bless JJ with some flippant remark she didn’t have the patience to endure, and JJ swung for him. 

Her fist connected with his face. 

The smug smirk fell right off his lips. His friends all leapt back in unison as he fell backwards into the bar and slumped onto the ground, clutching his face with his mouth hanging open. A slow stream of blood began to trickle from his nose. She hoped it was broken. 

Hand smarting and knuckle split, JJ left the club. She advised the bouncer about him. When he appeared apathetic, she offered him another handful of twenties to search him and drag him out by his ear. Next thing, Yaz’s would-be assailant was out on the kerb with blood streaming down his face and soaking his shirt from JJ’s right hook. 

Satisfied, JJ crossed the street towards her car and climbed in. Bill was in the back with Yaz lying over her lap. 

“How is she?” asked JJ, starting the car and pulling away. 

“All right, I think. Hard to tell,” Bill confessed. “I’ve never seen her like this before. She’s been — I dunno, she’s been going out even more than I have. With people I don’t even recognise, sometimes. She’s spiralling, mate.” 

JJ glanced over her shoulder. Yaz was awake, but only just. “When did it start?”

“Few weeks ago, I suppose.” 

Before the phone call, then. Which meant that Yaz had been lying when she told JJ she was doing well. JJ inwardly cursed herself. She should have trusted her instincts. That phone call was probably Yaz trying to ask for help. But, because it was Yaz, she no doubt had no idea how to go about it. Yaz didn’t like to admit to weakness, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have any. If JJ had seen the call for what it was, this might have been avoided. 

Bill had work the next day, so JJ dropped her off home with a promise to keep her updated and get Yaz to call her when she woke up. When she pulled up in the parking garage at her complex, JJ helped Yaz out of the back seat. Her legs kept giving out on the way to the lift, so JJ picked her up and carried her the rest of the way. 

She tried to keep Yaz talking on the way up to her apartment. Unfortunately, a lot of what came out of her mouth was nonsensical and hard to understand. JJ only just managed to make it out when, as she stepped out of the lift, Yaz mumbled a quiet, “I’m gonna be sick.”

JJ carried Yaz straight to the bathroom and sat her down by the toilet, kneeling behind her and holding her hair back while she emptied the contents of her stomach into the basin. Bill was right about one thing — JJ had never seen Yaz in a state like this before. She could hold her liquor pretty well for someone her size, which meant that whatever she’d been given must have been strong. It knocked JJ sick to think what might have happened if Bill hadn’t been there for her; if she’d been out with those strangers Bill couldn’t place.

It was a long time before Yaz had nothing else to retch up. She slumped back against the wall while JJ helped her rinse her mouth out with mouthwash and stared at her whilst she cleaned her face with a damp flannel. 

“There’s a cut on your face,” Yaz noticed after a minute.

JJ pulled back the rag. “Um, yeah. I were doin’ some renovations. Got a bit hairy.”

“And your hand.” Yaz took JJ’s hand and ran a finger over the fresh cut on her knuckle. Dried blood caked the wound and some bruising was beginning to form around it, but she was lucky not to have done any more serious damage with how hard she’d hit him. 

“Superficial,” dismissed JJ. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Yaz didn’t let go of JJ’s hand. She thudded the back of her head against the wall and peered at JJ with immensely dilated pupils. “You know how impressive you are, don’t you?”

“I — what?”

“Is that why you wanted me around?” Yaz traced patterns on the back of JJ’s hand and stared at it, seemingly entranced by the motions she was making. “To be impressed by you? To make you feel good?”

JJ peeled a strand of hair out of Yaz’s face. “Where is this coming from?” 

“Have there been others like me?”

“There’s never been anyone like you, Yasmin.”

Yaz shook her head, frustrated. “I mean, before you met me. Did you ever do this with anyone else?” 

“I don’t even know what _this_ is,” divulged JJ. “We’re not exactly typical, are we?”

Yaz looked immeasurably sad when she dropped her gaze, then. JJ would sacrifice the world to make sure she never saw Yaz sport that expression again. “This isn’t how I wanted it to go,” Yaz said without looking up. 

JJ tilted her head. “What’s that?”

“When I saw you again for the first time,” elaborated Yaz. “This isn’t how I wanted it to go.”

“Don’t worry about that, Yaz. You’re safe. That’s really all that matters.” JJ looked Yaz up and down: creased dress, desaturated skin; smudged makeup; hollow cheeks. Safe for now, sure. But safe from herself? JJ couldn’t be sure. She did know one thing, though. Yaz wasn’t going to be in it alone anymore. She’d make sure of that. 

“You don’t understand,” grumbled Yaz, rubbing her tired eyes with her knuckles and smudging her eyeliner even further. “I wanted to tell you something, but I can’t remember what it is.” 

JJ got to her feet. “We can talk in the morning, yeah? You need to get to bed.” She offered her hand. “Can you walk?”

“Think so.” 

Yaz let JJ help her to her feet and walk her to the bedroom. Keeping her eyes averted at all times, JJ helped Yaz out of her dress and handed her a clean tee and a pair of joggers. While Yaz changed into them, JJ fetched her a glass of water and some painkillers. She made her take the tablets before guiding her under the covers and tucking her in. JJ sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. 

“I wish you’d told me you were strugglin’, Yaz,” she lamented. 

Yaz shrugged. “You were healing.”

“Not from you.”

“That’s a lie. We both know I messed you up, JJ.”

“Is that what you think? Yaz…” JJ wanted sorely to put her mind at ease, but she decided not to waste her breath. The odds of Yaz remembering this conversation come morning were slim to none. She pursed her lips and squeezed Yaz’s knee over the duvet. “Get some rest, yeah?”

“D’you remember what you said to me in Paris?” Yaz asked, stopping JJ before she could think to leave. 

Thrown by the sudden diversion of the conversation, JJ scratched her eyebrow. “I said a lot of things in Paris. Gonna have to be a bit more specific.”

“On the Eiffel Tower. You remember?”

“It’s not somethin’ I’d easily forget,” JJ answered. Her smile was mutilated by the fine blade of melancholy. “Why’d you ask?”

Yaz studied JJ’s face. “Do you still mean it?”

JJ opened and then closed her mouth. This really wasn’t the kind of conversation to be having while Yaz was so out of sorts. “We’ve got a lot to talk about, Yaz, but there’s no use in doing it right now. You’ll only forget everythin’ I say. And probably regret half the things _you_ say. Speakin’ of, I should probably—”

“Will you stay?”

“Um. It’s my house.”

“In bed, I mean. Stay.”

“Oh, uh. I dunno. It's…”

“Please, Jamie. I don’t wanna be alone.”

It broke JJ’s heart to see Yaz so vulnerable. So human. Here she was: a girl in pain, scared of being left behind and begging for the company of another so that she didn’t have to weather the long night alone. For all the airs she put on, Yaz wasn’t much different to anybody else when it came down to it. No different to JJ and her ache to be held. 

And yet, of the seven billion others on the planet, only Yaz’s arms had ever numbed that ache. So, maybe she was a little different. 

Though she figured Yaz might come to regret letting her defences down by the time the sun rose that morning, right now she was in need. And she was hurting. And JJ knew what it was to feel haunted by empty beds and empty arms. 

Without changing, JJ climbed under the covers beside Yaz. To her surprise, Yaz pulled JJ’s arms around her and rested her head against her chest, head tucked beneath JJ’s chin. JJ felt enormously guilty. She knew, if Yaz were sober, she’d never let this happen. JJ ought to have denied Yaz her desperate plea. It was the right thing to do. 

However, when she slid her hand across her back and felt the knobs of her spine and the ridges of her ribs even through her shirt — betraying a harrowing frailty JJ had never before known from Yaz — she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell she was letting Yaz sleep alone. She cradled the back of Yaz’s head with her hand and held her against her shoulder, praying to whoever was listening that Yaz knew she would always be safe there. That she could hear the thrum of JJ’s heart and the silent, screaming confession between every beat. 

“You know, sometimes,” uttered Yaz, “I think you’re the only thing in my life that makes me feel anything.”

JJ looked down, but she couldn’t see Yaz’s face. It was buried in her shirt. “That’s an awful thing to say, Yasmin,” she breathed. 

Yaz choked a bitter laugh. “It’s an awful thing to think. I’ve tried everything to get you out of my system, JJ. Drinking. Drugs. Sex. Why’s it so hard to stay away from you? What is it about you?”

“I — I don’t know what you want me to say,” JJ said. The insinuation that Yaz’s fall from grace had something to do with her, that Yaz was doing this to herself purely because she didn’t know how to cope with her feelings for JJ, burrowed into the marrow of her bones and made itself at home. It was heavy as concrete. 

“Can you tell me something good?” entreated Yaz.

“Somethin’ like what?”

“Anything.”

Stroking Yaz’s hair absently, JJ contemplated her request. “Did y’know that a group of ladybirds is called a loveliness?” she told her. “I thought that were quite nice when I heard it.”

Yaz chuckled softly; JJ felt her warm breath landing against the crook of her neck. “That is nice.”

“D’you wanna know somethin’ else?”

“What?”

“It’s our six month anniversary today,” revealed JJ. “Well, I mean, technically it’s not an anniversary in the typical sense. But it’s been six months since we first met. Since you gave me my very first lap dance, eh?”

For a long moment, Yaz didn’t respond. It was a while before JJ became aware of a dampness soaking through her shirt and realised that Yaz was crying. Genuinely crying. Not just an errant tear she could blink away or trivialise. JJ didn’t know what else to do except hold her tighter — so tight she worried her recently brittle body might fissure and break beneath the pressure. 

She held Yaz like that until her shoulders stopped shaking; until she stopped hearing the fragmented hiccups and barely stifled sniffles. She held her that way until her breathing evened out and she was convinced she’d fallen asleep.

She held her like that until she was proven wrong.

“I just remembered what I had to say to you,” croaked Yaz. Her voice was rough as sandpaper. 

JJ shushed her gently. “Save it ‘til the—”

“I think I love you, Jamie,” said Yaz, and that sandpaper roughness squeezed through JJ’s bones and wore down the rocky edges of her rough heart until they were smooth as silk. But that silk was easily torn under the serrated edge of Yaz’s second consecutive confession. “And I think I hate you for it, too.”


	9. ladybird

Yaz slept fitfully.

It was dark outside when she woke, sweating and shivering and tangled in sheets of an impossibly high thread count. She was still in the in-between stage of her comedown, wherein she could just about remember most of the night but an increasingly opaque film was beginning to develop over it. Total sobriety was a few hours away. 

Probably, this was why she didn’t react all that much when she looked to her right to find JJ sat up in bed beside her; face illuminated in the glow of her tablet. In her less than lucid state of mind, it seemed perfectly acceptable that she should be waking in JJ’s bed whilst she worked through the night right next to her. 

She must have made some kind of involuntary indication that she was awake because, next thing, JJ turned to look at her and her eyes went wide as saucers. 

“Yaz?” She lifted her glasses to the top of her head. “You okay?” 

Yaz mumbled something incoherent in response. Her throat felt gravelly and rough, and the prelude to what she was sure would be a killer headache announced itself with a dull throb behind her eyes. 

“D’you feel sick?” asked JJ. “There’s a bucket next to the bed if you can’t make it to the bathroom.”

“I’m fine,” rasped Yaz. “Got any water?”

JJ nodded over Yaz’s shoulder. “On your bedside.” 

Reaching for the pint of water JJ had left for her on the nightstand, Yaz chugged two thirds in one go. She set the glass down and collapsed back onto the bed with a sigh. Ignoring the way JJ was staring at her as if she had just sprouted three extra heads, Yaz glanced at the tablet in her hands. 

“What you working on?”

Clearing her throat, JJ tore her gaze away from Yaz and looked down at her tablet. “Ah, it’d bore you. Architecture stuff.” 

“At this time?” queried Yaz, as if she had any idea what time it was. Late. Early. 

“Um. I couldn’t sleep.” And that strange expression took over her face again, as if she didn’t know how to act or what to say. Yaz tried to remember if she’d done anything regrettable. Sadly, her still brain wasn’t working at full capacity. 

She opted to go on acting as if she couldn’t sense JJ’s tension. “Can I see?”

JJ turned the screen towards her. The shock of brightness intensified the throbbing behind her eyes for a head-splitting moment, before JJ had the merciful foresight to turn it down. Yaz squinted at the tablet. Suspended in a plain blue background was a bird’s eye, 3D model of an incomplete structure with the roof shaved off to expose the interior. 

“What is it?”

“It’s gonna be a hotel when I finally get it done. Been a bit distracted, lately.” JJ dropped the tablet onto her lap and rubbed the back of her neck with a grimace. Yaz was about to ask why she was working at her bed and not her desk or the kitchen, but stopped herself when the nebulous memory of JJ’s arms around her drifted into the periphery of her consciousness. _I don’t want to be alone._ Yaz filtered out the memory like smoke and let it drift off into the nether. 

Rolling onto her side, she tucked her hand beneath her cheek and peered up at JJ. “Have you made a start on your dream home yet?”

“Nah, not really.”

Yaz hummed, deliberating. “You should put a hidden room in there. You know, like in those old castles. Hide it behind a bookcase or something.”

“Yeah?” smiled JJ. “And what would be in this hidden room?”

“Dunno. If the drawer under your bed’s anything to go by, probably a sex dungeon.” 

JJ laughed. It was a tired laugh, but it was genuine, and it infected Yaz with a sleepy smile of her own. “Is that what you’d put in your dream home?” JJ asked. “A hidden room?”

Yaz shrugged. “Never really thought about it.”

“Think about it, now.” JJ set her tablet and glasses on the nightstand and rolled onto her side so that she and Yaz were facing one another. The only light in the room emanated from the city lights and the moon. “If y’could build the home of your dreams, what would you include?” 

“Hm. Well, it’d need to have enough rooms so that people could come visit. You know, like, my family. If…” Yaz trailed off; didn’t finish the thought. “And Bill. But her room would be way over on the other side of the house to my room. Or I’d just stick her in the basement. Maybe build her a treehouse.”

“Somethin’ tells me, as long as there was a fridge full of alcohol in there, she wouldn’t mind that much,” reckoned JJ. “What else?”

“Skylights. Always wanted a place with skylights, so that I could see the stars at night. See the snow falling in winter. The rain. Leaves blowing in.” While she talked, JJ listened with rapt attention and the faintest of smiles. “Or a rooftop garden, maybe.” 

“Why not both? It’s a dream, remember?” 

Yaz hesitated. “Is this a dream?” she asked in the quietest whisper. 

“Might feel like it in the mornin’,” joked JJ. “But no, Yaz. You’re awake.” 

“Doesn’t feel like it.” Unthinking, Yaz lifted her hand to JJ’s face. JJ went rigid when Yaz’s knuckles grazed the jut of her jaw. She trailed a finger down the front of her neck and felt the bob of her throat when she swallowed. 

“Do I feel real?” breathed JJ.

“Always.”

They stared at one another in the dark. JJ, backlit by the city, was but a silhouette with a few shadowy features swimming in and out of focus. Her shoulders rose and fell with every slow, steady breath. It was hypnotic. _She_ was. Yaz reclaimed her hand and tucked it back under her cheek. 

“A bar,” said Yaz.

“What?”

“That’s what else I’d have in my dream home. A fully stocked bar,” Yaz went on. “Juke box. Pool table. No dart board, ‘cause I wouldn’t feel like getting thrashed by you every night.” 

JJ was silent for a few seconds. “You picture me in your dream home?” 

_Oh._ Yaz paused. She hadn’t even thought about it — as if it were a given that JJ should be there. Was it too late to blame it on the drugs? JJ got up and slipped out of bed. From her desk, she grabbed a sketchpad and pencil and switched on the desk lamp. Muted orange flooded the room. When JJ got back in bed, she returned her glasses to her face and sat with her knees up and her sketchpad resting against them. Pencil poised, she turned to Yaz.

“Go ahead.” 

Although Yaz didn’t usually allow herself the luxury of playing make believe, JJ’s eager encouragement and the dreamlike nature of the moment swept her along on the thrill of the fantasy. The glide of her pencil across creamy paper accompanied Yaz’s specifications, which became less and less realistic the longer she went on. 

It started with a granite kitchen, exposed brick, and fireplaces in every room, and then jumped to indoor swimming pools, a cosy home cinema; floor to ceiling windows with a view to die for. Yaz might as well have asked for the place to be built from solid gold while she was at it. 

JJ flipped the page and asked about the garden. Yaz didn’t know much about gardening, so JJ suggested an extended porch and enough greenery for her dog to play around — because JJ insisted that she had to have a dog. 

“Wait, no, not a Lab,” refused Yaz, when JJ tried to sketch a Labrador puppy beside the rough plans of the garden. She was leaning against JJ’s arm at this point. “Make it a Doberman.”

With an amused shake of her head, JJ began to draw a Doberman above the Lab. “Y’know, sometimes you’re unpredictable, Yaz, and sometimes you’re exactly who I expect you to be,” she mused. When she was done, the Doberman stood protectively over the Lab curled at its feet. “They’ll be best friends,” said JJ, “or they’ll be soulmates.”

Once complete, JJ presented Yaz with an open plan, haphazard design of a house — mansion, really — and garden decked out with all her most unattainable fancies. Maybe, thought Yaz, she could manage a dog one day. 

JJ beamed proudly at it. “This is what’s missin’.”

“Missing from what?”

“Oh, just a project I’m working on. Somethin’ were missin’ but I couldn’t put my finger on it.”

“Well, I’m glad to have helped. Tell your clients they can kick me a cut, if they want,” joked Yaz around a yawn. 

“It’s not that kinda project.” JJ eyed Yaz’s tired face, set the sketchpad aside, and lowered the blinds using the remote on her nightstand. Daylight would no doubt be making its first appearance, soon. “Y’should go back to sleep, Yasmin.”

“I know,” mumbled Yaz. “It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“Things are calm right now, aren’t they?” Yaz gestured between the two of them. “With us. And in my head. But I can’t help but feel like, when I wake up, everything’s gonna be awful again.”

“It won’t be like it was,” promised JJ with conviction. 

“How do you know?”

“Because, I’ll help you. Whatever it takes. Whatever you need.” JJ looked down at Yaz, whose head lay on her shoulder, and trailed a gentle fingertip across her hairline. “I don’t know what’s goin’ on with you, Yaz, but I know I’m not gonna let you handle it on your own.”

“I handle everything on my own, JJ,” said Yaz. She yawned again and her eyelids grew too heavy to keep forcing back open. 

JJ readjusted her arm so that it was around Yaz’s shoulders. “It’s okay to need someone,” she whispered. “It’s even okay to want someone.”

“What if I don’t know what I want?”

“Then I’ll help you figure it out.”

But she didn’t need any help figuring it out. Not right then. As she drifted to sleep with JJ’s fingers combing through her hair, Yaz realised that, for the time being, that was the only thing in the universe she wanted. JJ’s hand in her hair. That was enough. 

* * *

The next time Yaz woke, she was alone in bed. 

The sound of keys clacking rapidly dragged her further and further from the clutches of slumber. Peeling her groggy eyes open, Yaz winced until her eyes adjusted. The blinds were still down, but the lamp in the corner of JJ’s bedroom was on. 

_Wait._

JJ’s bedroom? 

_Tell me I didn’t._

Except, when Yaz turned her head, it wasn’t JJ she saw. It was a redhead she’d never met before, clad in a leather jacket with her Converse propped up on the desk and a pen hanging out of her mouth. She had a laptop open on her lap and was presently drumming on the lower clamshell as if in thought. Try as she might, Yaz couldn’t make any sense of the scene. 

Why was Yaz at JJ’s, and who the _hell_ was that? Yaz tried to recall the events of the night prior. She remembered being out with Bill, she remembered being fine one minute, and then — what? After that, Yaz was left with nothing more than a hazy series of non-chronological images: lying in the back seat of JJ’s car, Bill’s voice in her ear; JJ holding her hair back while she vomited; the alarming comfort of JJ’s arms around her. 

Yaz groaned involuntarily. 

The redhead swivelled around and plucked the pen out of her mouth. “Oh, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“What time is it?” asked Yaz, voice thick. 

“Well, it’d be a lie to say good morning. And not just ‘cause of the state of you.” She set her laptop down and clicked open the blinds, prompting Yaz to hide her face in her hands when the dazzlingly white overcast sky made Yaz’s head feel like a hive full of angry wasps. 

Yaz peered at the stranger through her fingers. “Who are you?”

“Amy.” Amy got to her feet. “Friend of JJ’s.” 

Thinking back to the phone call she made to JJ a couple of weeks earlier, Yaz remembered JJ saying there was an old friend helping her out. Brilliant, JJ had called her. Supposedly, they weren’t sleeping together — but Yaz wasn’t sure she believed that. Especially not now that she knew what she looked like. 

“You look like you need a coffee. And a shower,” remarked Amy with a wrinkle of her nose. “Not necessarily in that order.” 

“Where’s JJ?” wondered Yaz, scanning the empty apartment. 

“She had to work. Life doesn’t stop just ‘cause you stumble through the door, kid,” Amy chided. Yaz frowned at her. Hadn’t JJ said the two of them would get on? _Fat chance._ “Saying that, she did cancel her afternoon for you. Reckon she’ll be on her way back, soon, but she asked me to look after you in the meantime. Lucky us, eh?”

Yaz dragged her hands down her face. “Fuck.”

“Is an understatement. C’mon, up you get.” Amy clapped her hands like a mother ushering her lazy teenager out of bed. “Get yourself washed up and I’ll put on a fresh pot.” 

If Yaz had any dignity left to speak of, it was stripped away along with the duvet when Amy tore it off her. Were she not suffering in every sense of the word, Yaz would no doubt have snapped at her for treating her like a helpless child. 

As it was, what with how physically and mentally drained she was, she didn’t have it in her to do much more than let Amy help her to her feet. Yaz felt terrible. Inside and out. She was positive she hadn’t taken any drugs last night, but she knew a comedown when she felt one. These were due to be a low couple of days.

“What happened last night?” Yaz asked, whilst she and Amy made their way down the steps and across the apartment. 

“You were spiked,” revealed Amy. “Nothing happened to you, so don’t worry. But your friend called JJ for help in the middle of the night. Apparently, you were asking for her.” 

A vague memory surfaced, in which Yaz sat herself down and petulantly refused to move a muscle until JJ arrived. What on earth had been going through her mind, she couldn’t say. A brutal wave of self-loathing submerged her entirely. So much for being selfless. 

Whilst Amy busied herself in the kitchen, Yaz showered. Exhausted, she ended up sitting down directly beneath the high-pressure stream of scalding water with her chin resting on her knees. When she glanced through the steamed glass at the toilet, she was jolted with another unwarranted flashback.

_Have there been others like me?_

_There’s never been anyone like you, Yasmin._

Yaz dreaded to think what else she said. How could she have let this happen? JJ herself said that she’d been doing better without her, and yet still she weaselled her way back in through the front door with her mess and her drama, without any regard for JJ’s wellbeing. She shouldn’t be there. It wasn’t fair of her to do this. 

After her shower, Yaz pulled JJ’s clothes back on and headed towards the bedroom in search of her things. Amy had been walking towards the bathroom when she emerged.

“Was just about to knock. Thought you might have drowned in there.”

Yaz walked right past her. “Have you seen my dress? My shoes?”

“You’re leaving?”

“I have to.”

Yaz searched JJ’s bedroom but her dress was nowhere to be found. Knowing JJ, she’d probably decided to wash it for her. Her shoes, fortunately, had been left by the bed. She tucked her heels under her arm, deciding the dress didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she wasn’t there when JJ got back. 

“Really?” Amy stood at the foot of the steps with her arms crossed. “You’re just gonna hurt her like that again?”

“I’m not — she’s better off without me,” insisted Yaz, searching the desk for her keys. “Look at the bloody state of me.”

Amy scoffed. “Funnily enough, she said the exact same thing about herself. Now, I don’t know if you’re right and the two of you are better off staying well away from one another, but don’t you think that’s a conversation you need to have face to face? Like adults? Running away isn’t gonna solve any of your problems.”

Yaz found her phone lying face down on the desk. When she picked it up — shattered. She tried to turn it on and cursed when nothing happened. “Seemed to solve a lot of JJ’s problems when I left last time.”

“God, the pair of you…” Amy sighed. “JJ’s problems weren’t solved because you ran away. JJ was working through a whole different breed of problems and she needed time and space to do that. Which you gave to her! You both did the right thing. Which, I’m coming to understand, is probably something of a miracle where the two of you are concerned. And if you’re looking for your keys, I suggest you don’t bother. You lost them.”

_Of course I did._

“Doesn’t matter. They’ll have a spare set at the office.”

Yaz picked up her purse and started down the steps, only to be blocked by Amy sidestepping in front of her. “She took her whole afternoon off for you. She’d have taken her morning off, too, if she didn’t have back to back meetings. Do you know how worried you made her?”

As a matter of fact, she could imagine _exactly_ how worried she’d made JJ, which was a large part of the reason she didn’t want to have to face her. Yaz didn’t think she could manage those wide, overtly concerned eyes in her state. She couldn’t handle JJ treating her like she was fragile and walking on eggshells around her. “Can you move?”

“Nope.”

Yaz took a deep breath. “Look, I’ll ring her later and let her know—”

“With what phone?”

“Well, you can just tell her—”

“Not happening, kid.” Amy gestured towards the kitchen. “Now, sit. I made coffee.”

Yaz sighed. Theoretically, she could just push past Amy and leave, but then what? She’d go home and sit with all her guilt and leave JJ pacing back and forth while she fretted about her. At the very least, she could stick around long enough to thank her. She owed her that much. Surrendering, Yaz put her stuff back down and followed Amy to the kitchen, slumping at the bar while Amy brought over two steaming mugs of coffee and pulled up the stool next to her.

Following a small sip, Yaz frowned into her mug. It was the exact flavour of coffee she liked, exactly how she liked it. “How’d you know how I take my coffee?”

“JJ left post-it notes. I also know how you like your tea, which cereal you prefer, and that you take your toast golden with a thin spread of butter, should I have become possessed with the urge to bring you a buffet in bed. Sadly, I wasn’t.” Amy spread her hands, faux-apologetic. “But the coffee’ll do.” 

Yaz breathed an incredulous laugh. “She’s something else.”

“That, she certainly is.”

A somewhat awkward silence settled over them. Yaz traced the rim of her mug with her finger and chewed her lip. “Uh, so, JJ said you’ve been helping her out?”

“I’m doing my best,” confirmed Amy. “Recovery is far from a straight line.”

Yaz nodded. “Well, thank you.”

Amy looked caught off guard. “I’m not doing it for you.”

“No, I know. It’s just — JJ’s been through a lot, and I never knew how to help her with that. I’m glad she found someone who does. She deserves that.” Yaz had always felt useless whenever JJ talked about her past, or when her trauma manifested itself in symptoms she wasn’t equipped to handle. She’d done her best to be patient, and to listen, but she’d never be able to understand what JJ went through. But if Amy was someone from JJ’s past, then she’d know what it was like. She could be there for her in ways Yaz never could. 

“Oh, go on,” sighed Amy. “Ask what I know you’re dying to ask.”

“What?”

Amy raised her brows pointedly until Yaz gave up her pretence of cluelessness. She closed both hands around her mug and hunched her shoulders. “Are you…” She gritted her teeth and forced the words out. “Are you sleeping with her?”

“No,” said Amy. Yaz hated how relieved she was. She hated, too, that her possessiveness of JJ was so obvious that even a total stranger could pick up on it. “But there’s something else you want to know, isn’t there?”

Yaz looked across at Amy, who tilted her head and waited for Yaz to find the words.

“Is she happy?” Yaz eventually asked.

The expression on Amys’s face told Yaz that that had been exactly what she'd been waiting to hear. “I think she’s closer to peace than she’s been in a long time,” she answered. 

Yaz’s initial reaction was to be happy for JJ, but there was a darkness in her as solid and revolting as a raw slab of meat and it overpowered her good intentions with the putrid stink of jealousy and self-pity. Of course JJ had bloomed in her absence. Yaz never made her anything but miserable. 

As if following Yaz’s train of thought, Amy pitched a resigned sigh. “But I also know she misses you. A lot,” she continued. “I know she called me in the early hours of the morning to ask if I’d look after you in case something happened, and because she didn’t want you to wake up alone. I know she dropped everything in the middle of the night to come and get you. I also know she damn near broke her hand on that bastard’s jaw defending your honour like some kind of knight in shining Oxfords.” 

“Wait, what?” Flashing before her mind’s eye, Yaz caught a glimpse of a split knuckle on pale skin; JJ’s slender hand cupped between her own; the two of them whispering on the bathroom floor. _I wanted to tell you something, but I can’t remember what it is._

“To me, it doesn’t look like there’s a whole lot she wouldn’t do for you,” said Amy, putting an abrupt end to Yaz’s mental recall, “but you’ve gotta ask yourself if you’re all in or not. If the answer’s no, you’re best leaving her alone. She needs people in her life right now who want the best for her. People who love her.” 

_People who love her._

Why was that sticking? Something was scratching violently at a door at the back of her head, begging to be let in, and Yaz’s every instinct told her to keep that door locked at all costs. Tuning it out became worlds easier when they heard the unmistakable sound of the lift arriving. Yaz didn’t have any time to prepare herself before JJ appeared, still in her work suit and carrying a plastic bag in her hand.

When she spotted Yaz, JJ halted in the hallway. It was just a second, but it was enough for Yaz to spot the nervousness behind her eyes. In a blink, it was gone. She moulded her expression into one of effortless joy and strode across the apartment towards them. 

“All right, gang?” she greeted.

“Gang?” repeated Yaz.

Amy shook her head. “Please, don’t…”

JJ pouted. “Team?”

Yaz and Amy winced.

“...Fam?”

Deciding that was her cue, Amy slipped off her stool and carried her mug to the sink. “If you’re back, then I’d better get going. Got a meeting with my publisher in an hour.”

Yaz half wished Amy wouldn’t leave, if only so she didn’t have to be alone with JJ after the no doubt mortifying events of the night before. It might have helped if she could remember, in full, all the regrettable things she’d said. Her amnesia put her at something of a disadvantage, and Yaz didn’t like to play on fields that weren’t level. 

“Yeah, ‘course! Thanks a tonne for helping us out, Amy,” said JJ, as Amy stuffed her laptop into a backpack and slung it over her shoulder. 

“Nah, anytime.” Amy gave JJ a hug on her way past and then turned to Yaz. “Look after yourself, kid, all right?”

Yaz offered a brief wave. “Thanks, Amy.”

With a final nod and a clap on JJ’s shoulder, Amy made her swift exit. The lift doors slid closed behind her. Yaz and JJ were alone again. It didn’t take long at all for a hefty tension to slither into the room and crawl up onto the counter separating them. Yaz peered over it at JJ, who gave her an awkward smile. 

“So, you got me a babysitter?” Yaz quipped in an effort to boot the tension back out of the door.

“That’s not — I just wanted to make you were all right,” frowned JJ. “I didn’t think you’d have appreciated waking up alone, either.”

“I know, I were just joking. She’s nice. You were right.” Yaz couldn’t tell if her initial reservations (rather, hostility) concerning Amy had been extinguished because her suspicions that they were sleeping together had been put to rest, or if it was because Yaz could tell she only had JJ’s best interests at heart. In all likelihood, it was a combination of both factors. “What happened to your face, anyway?”

JJ touched a finger to the healing cut on her cheek. It was a few centimetres long and, by the looks of it, would probably leave a faint scar in its wake. “I, uh, attacked a mirror with a baseball bat,” divulged JJ.

“You did _what_?”

“To be fair, it had it coming. Me and Amy went to our old house and… anyway, I had it looked at. Nothin’ to worry about,” assured JJ, and though Yaz would have loved to hear the story of exactly what she and Amy got up to at that house, she let JJ change the subject without pressing the matter. JJ set her bag down on the bartop. “Brought you somethin’.”

From the bag, JJ pulled a brand new phone still in the box. It was a much newer model than the broken one in Yaz’s pocket. JJ slid it across the counter.

Yaz looked between the box and JJ, puzzled. “JJ, why the—”

“Yours is broken. In this day and age, Yaz, y’can’t get very far without a phone,” reasoned JJ. 

“You can’t just buy me a brand new phone without asking,” Yaz argued. “It’s not — we’re still not—”

“Take the phone, Yaz,” JJ cut in, and the uncharacteristically stern fibre of her voice made Yaz’s brows pop. When she saw the look on Yaz’s face, her shoulders relaxed and she sighed. “Just… you need a phone, right? I know Bill’s waitin’ for a call. She’s been worried sick about you. She isn’t the only one.” 

The way JJ looked Yaz up and down then made her uneasy; self-conscious. Yaz knew she’d been slipping, and she hadn’t wanted JJ to see her like this. If she could help it, she preferred to maintain an invulnerable front. Strength above all else. Yaz despised pity and she especially despised it coming from JJ. She had enough on her plate as it was without getting worked up about Yaz’s problems. Besides, Yaz could manage alone. She always did. 

“Take it you haven’t eaten. Fancy some very late breakfast?” proposed JJ. “Can whip up some French toast, if y’like. Or I’ve got that fruity cereal in.”

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“Coco Pops? Pancakes?”

“I’m not hungry, JJ. If I eat anything now, I probably won’t be able to keep it down.” The truth was, Yaz hadn’t been eating properly in weeks. Her appetite was shot. It might have been the binge drinking, it might have been the drugs; it might have been that perpetual sense of unidentifiable dread that filled her stomach like tar.

Nodding sympathetically, JJ leaned over the bar with her fingers steepled. The bruising on her hand, Yaz noticed, had turned purple. “Um, so, how much of last night d’you actually remember?”

“It’s kind of a blur, to be honest,” confessed Yaz. “I remember being in the club, and then being in your car. I remember throwing up ‘til my ribs ached.” She vaguely remembered JJ holding her in bed, too, but she elected not to mention that. 

“And afterwards?”

There was that scratching at the door again. Harsher, this time, like vicious talons clawing at brittle wood that wasn’t built to withstand such an attack. How long until they tore through? How long until Yaz was confronted with the faceless monster of her own bad choices? With any luck, it’d get bored and leave her alone if she ignored it for long enough. 

“Not much,” she said.

Crestfallen, JJ’s eyes dropped to the counter. 

“I’m sorry if I said anything that upset you, Jamie.” Yaz reached for JJ’s hands. She stopped herself at the last second; let her own fall helplessly a few centimetres away. “You can’t trust a word I say when I’m in a state like that.”

Apparently, the sentiment did little to ease JJ’s strife. “Right,” she muttered. 

“And thank you,” Yaz went on, “for looking after me. Christ knows you didn’t have to do that after the way I’ve treated you.”

“You needed me, Yasmin. It’s as simple as that.” JJ straightened up and loosened the knot of her tie. With a burgeoning, poisonous blossom of guilt unfurling in her gut, Yaz noticed how exhausted she looked. Her typically animated eyes were devoid of spirit, which made it all the more unsettling when they landed on Yaz. “Actually, you asked me somethin’ last night that I haven’t been able to get out of my head. Asked if I just wanted you around because I want someone to impress. To make me feel good about myself.” 

“I did?” It was settled: Yaz was never drinking again. “That’s — someone just got in my head about something. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.” JJ rounded the bar and pulled up the stool next to her. “I know you’re a bit unwell right now, so I won’t say everythin’ I have to say about you and me. But, Yaz, if you’re being reckless with yourself ‘cause you’re worried that _I’m_ gonna be reckless with you, that I’m just entertainin’ myself ‘til I get bored, you’re so wrong. You don’t have to hurt yourself like this ‘cause you’re afraid of—”

“Afraid? I’m not afraid of anything,” claimed Yaz. “And I’m not hurting myself. I was spiked, remember?”

JJ studied Yaz and drummed her fingers on the bartop. “When’s the last time you ate properly?” she asked. The care in her voice just made Yaz angrier. “How many times a week d’you go out? How many strangers have you slept with; drugs have you taken?”

“Jesus,” scoffed Yaz. She pushed herself out of her stool and took her mug to the sink. “If I’d known I were waking up to a bloody diatribe—”

“I’m not tryna lecture you, Yaz,” purported JJ, following Yaz when she dumped her mug in the basin and started towards the bedroom. “I’m actually concerned about you. Really concerned. What if Bill hadn’t been there last night? D’you really trust all those people you spend your time with to have your back if somethin’ like that happens again?”

Yaz spun on her heels in the middle of the living room. “What, should I run all my mates by you, is that what you want?” she snapped. “Send you their resumes? Run background checks? Would that make you happy, babe?”

JJ pinched her nose. “No, this — this isn’t coming across the right way.”

“Actually, I think it is.” Yaz shook her head and gazed out through the window. “None of this has anything to do with you, JJ.”

“Well, that’s not what you said last night.” 

Yaz froze. _Sometimes, I think you’re the only thing in my life that makes me feel anything,_ her own words echoed back to her. _I’ve tried everything to get you out of my system, JJ._ If a hole in the earth were to open up right then, Yaz would gladly have jumped in feet first. She really was the worst person she knew. To blame her own mistakes on JJ — better yet, to do so while she was cocooned in JJ’s arms after she’d rescued her from total self-destruction — was a new low she hadn’t known it was possible to reach. She supposed she deserved some kind of award. 

“But I also don’t think it’s just me,” JJ carried on. “I think you’ve been lonely for a long time, Yaz. Y’might not think I notice these kinds of things, but I notice you. I see myself in you. And I get lonely, too. Sometimes, it feels like there’s the whole universe, and then there’s me. Like we’re two separate things — and I’m always gonna be on the outside looking in. Don’t you ever feel like that?”

_All the time._

“No.”

JJ looked as if she didn’t believe her. “You’ve been let down before. You’ve been let down by people you were supposed to trust, by your family; you’ve even been let down by me.” JJ made that last addendum quietly, betraying the shame she still felt about her indiscretion. “I can understand why it’s hard for you to look past that and let your guard down. Every time you ask someone to be careful with you, they hurt you instead. Right?”

Yaz stared at her feet. “What, did you take a crash course on psychoanalysis while I were gone?” she mumbled, hands buried in the pockets of JJ’s joggers.

With a heavy smile, JJ took a small step closer. “The world’s been chipping away at your heart for so long, Yasmin, you’ve forgotten what it feels like when it’s full. When it’s whole. But I’ll let you in on a secret: hearts can be rebuilt. Give me time enough and I’ll draw you up the blueprints, and we can build it together. Me and you. Our own project.”

“What makes you think I want that?” challenged Yaz. At this point, she was purely being argumentative for the sake of it. She felt as if she’d been backed into a corner; as if a harsh spotlight had been shone on all of her insecurities. In short, Yaz felt seen. And she didn’t know how to react to that. 

JJ considered Yaz for a beat. “There’s somethin’ I wanna show you. It’s not quite ready, and I don’t think you’re ready right now, either. But there’s a conversation we need to have, Yaz. Soon,” stated JJ. The tone of her voice put Yaz on edge. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but JJ seemed different. “In the meantime, you can’t keep doin’ this to yourself. It’s only gonna end with you gettin’ hurt.” 

What Yaz couldn’t bring herself to say, because she knew it would break JJ’s heart, was that she just didn’t care. Yaz wasn’t stupid; she knew the risks. But, for the life of her, she couldn’t come up with a good enough reason to stop. To slam on the brakes. To duck for cover. She was destined to become the collateral damage of her own life. 

Frankly, she was okay with that. 

What else was there?

Rather than voice any such depressing sentiments, what she said instead was, “Will you take me home?”

And JJ languished. “Sure.”

* * *

Killing the engine invited an unbearably freighted silence into the car. Yaz’s building was just to their right, as grey and as uninspiring as ever. The thick coverlet of clouds had eased up some during their journey, creating a patchwork sky of pale blue and white. Briefly, a ray of sun pooled in through the windshield and fell onto their laps. 

JJ leaned back against the dark leather of her seat and looked sidelong at Yaz. “Will y’mind if I call later?” she asked. 

“Guess not,” said Yaz, tugging at the drawstrings of JJ’s joggers. Her dress had still been drying when they’d left, so she’d been forced to return home in the clothes she’d slept in and an old navy hoodie with a rainbow patch on the breast which smelled so much like JJ that Yaz couldn’t wait to tear it off, if only because she knew how much it was going to sting when she was alone again. 

“Whatever you’re goin’ through, Yaz, I’m here for you,” stressed JJ. “Doesn’t matter what’s goin’ on with us. I’m right here.”

Yaz wanted to say that it did matter; that what she was going through was _because_ of JJ. It would be so easy to blame it all on her, but Yaz’s issues, she knew, started long before she met JJ. Her issues began the day she became disillusioned with the world she lived in. All along, people had been telling her that isolating herself from the rest of the world, that preventing herself from knowing and giving love, was far from the answer. All along, she’d ignored them. It felt safer. As long as Yaz didn’t care, she was untouchable. 

But now she did care. 

About JJ.

Suddenly, holding her own heart hostage seemed like a fast track to falling apart, because this was the first time it was demanding to be set free and she was refusing it. She refused it freedom, nourishment; the light of day. And it was withering. Dying. It was up to Yaz to decide whether she was willing to let that happen. 

“Seriously, JJ, don’t worry about me,” smiled Yaz. She wondered if it came across as feeble as it felt. 

Stubborn, JJ shook her head. “No, I missed it last time. That phone call. You needed help, and I missed it.” She balled her fists atop her lap, and Yaz could see that she was angry with herself. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me, but it won’t happen again.” 

“I’m just having fun, babe. That’s all it is.” 

“Lookin’ at you, Yaz, somethin’ tells me it stopped bein’ fun a long time ago,” accused JJ. She clenched her jaw. “If I weren’t so bloody stupid—”

“Don’t do that. Don’t call yourself stupid, JJ. You’re not.” Yaz covered one of JJ’s fists until it opened beneath her touch. She’d only been intending to calm her down, but then JJ turned her hand over and laced their fingers together and Yaz didn’t have it in her to disentangle them. “Listen to me, yeah? None of the things I do are your fault. You don’t ever have to feel bad about that. I don’t want you taking this out on yourself, okay?”

JJ didn’t look convinced. “But you said—”

“It doesn’t matter what I said then, it matters what I’m saying now. People make their own choices. Their own mistakes. You can't take it all on.” Heaving a sigh, Yaz looked out through her window and didn’t address the fact that JJ was running her thumb across her hand. “I make a lot of mistakes, JJ. I’m still tryna figure out if we were one of them.”

“Well, while you’re figurin’ that out, can you please eat something in the meantime?” JJ implored, prompting Yaz to turn her head. “I can have some food delivered later, if you’re not up to cooking.”

Yaz’s chest constricted. The way JJ felt for her was so unfailingly tender; she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had cared enough to make sure she was eating right, and right now JJ was prioritising that even over their own problems. Their own uncertain future. It was such a small thing, and yet it carried the weight of a universe on its shoulders. 

“You really are the kindest person I’ve ever met,” Yaz muttered. It was an acknowledgement that only amplified her guilt at ever having met her in the first place. “I miss you, Jamie.”

“I miss you, too, Yaz.” JJ pressed a lingering kiss to Yaz’s knuckles. Her lips were still resting against Yaz’s skin when she murmured, “Don’t disappear on me, all right?” There were a thousand possible readings to that plea, each of them as heartrending as the last. 

But Yaz didn’t make promises she couldn’t keep. 

Yaz pulled her hand away and glanced down at her clothes. “Um, I’ll send your clothes back, or—”

“Don’t worry about it. They look better on you, anyway.”

Yaz offered a thin smile. “See you, JJ.”

“Soon, yeah?”

“Soon.”

Yaz reached for the door handle, but something on the exterior window stilled her fingers just as they wrapped around it. She frowned.

“There’s a ladybird on your window,” she noticed. Why did that matter?

“Oh, ace!” JJ leaned over her shoulder to get a closer look. She glanced at Yaz and a thoughtful expression claimed her face. After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Did y’know that, um, a group of ladybirds is called a—”

“Loveliness,” finished Yaz; voice but a whisper.

How did she know that? The scratching was back. Harsher. Louder. Yaz didn’t have the foresight to run and hide before the talons tore through the wood like paper, and the fanged beast of remembering sank its teeth into her without mercy. She couldn’t shake it off if she tried. It had her in its jaws, now. 

From the gaping wound bled a confession that no amount of desperate clutching would force back in. _I think I love you, Jamie._ The words haunted her mouth. They tasted like metal; burned like a sun on her tongue. _And I think I hate you for it, too._

JJ turned sharply towards her. “You — you remember?”

Yaz wrestled the beast off her back and ran from it. She clambered out of the car as if it were chasing her and didn’t look back even when she heard JJ call her name. How could she face her? Face that? After getting her new set of keys from the office, she took the stairs two at a time towards her floor and slammed her door shut behind her with enough force to shake the entire room. Hands locked on top of her head, she paced the room. 

_I think I love you._

_I love you._

She couldn’t have. No way. Yaz didn’t do that. Ever. And she wouldn’t say so if she did; she wouldn’t give JJ hope when she was such a hopeless case. Except that’s exactly what she’d done. No wonder JJ had been so dejected to find that Yaz couldn’t remember the night. She _wanted_ to hear those words. She wanted Yaz to mean them.

The question was, _did_ she mean them? Would it change things if she did? 

With a groan, Yaz collapsed onto her bed. “Fuck.”

She had every intention of drawing the curtains, climbing under her covers, and hiding from the world all day. The world had other ideas. Not ten minutes after Yaz got home, there was a knock at her front door. Yaz didn’t react, at first, hoping whoever it was would leave her well enough alone. But then there was another knock. Ten seconds later, another.

“Right!” she shouted. Dragging herself out of bed, Yaz padded towards the door, slid back the chain, and opened it to find, “Sonya?”

The smirk her sister had been wearing slipped right off her face the moment she saw Yaz. “God, you look like shit.”

Yaz’s mouth moved and nothing came out. She hadn’t seen her sister in over nine months. Plus, with Sheffield being a short train ride away, it wasn’t exactly custom for her to show up unannounced — family tension or no. Yaz could only imagine, if she was showing up in person, that something was wrong. “I — what are you doing here?”

“Oh, yeah, good to see you too,” retorted Sonya. “You gonna invite me in or what?”

Without giving Yaz a chance to respond, Sonya brushed right past her. Gaping after her, Yaz closed the door and followed her sister into her flat. Sonya’s eyes swept noticeably around the room. If she was looking for something, Yaz couldn’t say what it was. 

“So, what’s happened?” demanded Yaz, crossing her arms.

“Nothing’s happened.” Sonya shrugged breezily. “Can’t a loving sister just check in once in a while without an ulterior motive?”

“Nope.” Yaz squinted at her. Her timing was wildly suspicious. “Hang on, lemme guess. Bill’s been in touch?”

Sonya’s air of nonchalance disintegrated. “Look, I haven’t heard any specifics, so don’t go mad at her. All she said was that you might be in a bit of trouble and that it might be worth seeing how you’re doing.” 

Yaz was definitely going to kill Bill when she saw her next. “I’m not in trouble, Son,” she asserted. “I’m fine. You really should’ve just called.”

“Would you have answered?”

“Course I would have answered.” 

“Maybe, but you can’t hang up on a face to face conversation!” sang Sonya, with a satisfied wriggle of her brows. 

“I can try,” Yaz grumbled.

She and Sonya stared one another down for a long moment. It was Sonya who eventually caved with an exasperated sigh. “Oh, this is ridiculous. I’ve not seen you in about a hundred years. Can we stop with the hostility for, like, two minutes?”

A slow few seconds passed. Yaz finally let her arms fall to her sides and rolled her eyes. “You want a cuppa?”

Sonya grinned. “I didn’t come all this way for a cup of tea, Yaz. How about you buy your sister a drink?”

Yaz scoffed. “Mate, I were out last night. I’m still in recovery.”

“You might be, but I’m not,” winked Sonya. “Besides, no offence, but this flat’s a bit depressing. It smells like sadness in here.”

“No offence, yeah?”

“Come on! Get ready!” Sonya flopped onto the end of Yaz’s bed with a look that told Yaz she wouldn’t be budging until Yaz yielded. “I’m feeling a cocktail, I think.”

“Yeah, and I’m feeling a migraine coming on,” Yaz mumbled under her breath, though she headed towards her wardrobe all the same. 

“Heard that!”

“You were supposed to.”

* * *

Yaz took Sonya to a quiet terrace bar in the city, where they sat at a glass table under a parasol on the rooftop. It was a little cool for it, but Yaz welcomed the fresh air. Because she still felt rough, she hadn’t bothered dressing up — opting for jeans and a leather jacket that she put on over JJ’s hoodie. She’d even left her hair in a messy bun rather than decide to do anything with it, much to her sister’s bemusement.

“Honestly, what has gotten into you?” she wondered, swirling her piña colada around with her straw. “You look like death warmed up.”

“Told you,” said Yaz, taking a sip of her ice water, “I had a long night.”

“Right, and are you gonna tell me what happened or am I gonna have to blackmail it out of you?”

Yaz gave her a dubious look. “Blackmail me with what?”

“Oh, I’ve got a whole folder of ammo on my phone, Yaz,” beamed Sonya, face brimming with glee at the prospect of being able to use it. “There’s a great picture of you from back in high school when you still had braces. Or, do you remember that Halloween when you dressed up as—”

“If you post any of that, I _will_ kill you.”

Sonya threw her hands up. “Then tell me!”

“Oh, for — I got spiked. That’s it.” 

“You got _spiked_?” Sonya pushed her cocktail to one side. “Did anything…”

“No, Son, nothing happened,” Yaz assured her. “So, I really don’t understand why Bill would message you.”

“Well, she’s your best mate. If she thinks something’s wrong, then there must be something to it,” reckoned Sonya. She pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair. “I know we don’t always get on, but haven’t I always been there when you needed me to be?”

Though she didn’t directly address it, Yaz knew exactly what she was referring to. After everything that went down with her school counsellor, Yaz had been at a worrying low. She’d been considering doing something stupid, and only her sister had been there for her. Yaz couldn’t say, with any certainty, that she would be sitting there right now were it not for her. 

Her sister had a knack for showing up for her at exactly the right moment, just when things looked bleakest and Yaz was struggling to see the light at the end of the tunnel. That’s how it used to be, at any rate. Yaz was years departed from her days as a wallowing teenager. A lot had changed between them since then. 

“Haven’t exactly been there lately, have you?” sniped Yaz. “None of you have.”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sonya held up her hands as if to call a ceasefire before the fight could escalate. “Look, Yaz, I know things didn’t exactly go well the last time you came home,” she granted, “but for you to just run off and stop visiting — you broke dad’s heart, you know? And mum’s. They miss you, Yaz. You’re all they bloody talk about.”

Yaz fiddled with the strings of JJ’s hoodie and dropped her eyes. “Maybe behind closed doors, sure, but they’re ashamed of me. They basically told me as much,” said Yaz, casting her mind back to the heart wrenching, crushed look on her parents’ faces when they found out where she was getting all her money from. “I started dancing for _them._ I did it to help them, Son. And instead of thanking me…”

“Oh, come on. It was never you they were ashamed of. They were ashamed because they had to rely on their kid just to get by. They’re our parents, Yaz. They’re supposed to be the ones looking after us, not the other way around. They didn’t wanna tell the family about it because, in their eyes, that would have been the same as admitting that they were failing.” A faint smile upturned the corners of Sonya’s lips. “You know what mum’s like. She’s well too proud to admit something like that.”

This was the first Yaz was hearing. “No, they — mum asked me to leave the club. Practically begged me.”

“Because she knows it wasn’t what you wanted! You had much bigger goals, Yaz, and she didn’t want you to have to give them up for her.” Sonya paused. “For us.”

“Then how come they never told me that?”

“Did you give them the chance?”

Yaz searched her sister for signs of dishonesty. They used to be able to read one another so well. But, now, would she even be able to tell if Sonya was lying to her? If she wasn’t, then did that mean Yaz had let the rift between herself and her family grow and grow based on a miscommunication? 

Even if that was the case, Yaz wasn’t the only one to blame. If her parents had really wanted to mend things, if they had wanted to make their case, they could have made more of an effort. Sonya had showed up on her doorstep. How hard could it be for them? 

“And while we’re on the subject,” Sonya pressed on, “how about that cheque? I know it had something to do with you. You’re wearing a Saint Laurent jacket right now, and I had a nosey in your wardrobe while you were in the bathroom.” 

“Sonya!”

“What? Put a lock on it if you don’t want people to see,” advised Sonya, unapologetic. “Anyway, the contents of that thing probably adds up to more than the cost of our apartment. A few times over. No way you make that much from dancing. So, either you’re doing something dodgy on the side or… well, frankly, that’s all I’ve come up with.” 

“I didn’t send that cheque.” Not technically a lie.

“Then, who did?” Sonya dropped the volume of her voice. “This is real life, Yaz. People don’t go around mailing cheques that size to total strangers, and we definitely don’t know anyone rich enough to just throw away that much money in an act of charity.” 

Yaz buried her face in her hands and sighed. Her sister was like a dog with a bone; she knew it was no use trying to change the subject or weasel her way out of it. She lifted her head and pointed at her sister. “You can’t tell mum and dad.” 

Like a teenager about to hear a scandalous piece of gossip, Sonya crossed her heart and leaned in close. This was going to be a fun conversation.

“Look, I’ve kinda been seeing this woman,” began Yaz. Sonya’s eyes lit up with intrigue. “It started off as just, like — it were casual.” Yaz thought that was a better way to phrase it than to tell her sister that they just spent all their time having sex. “She’s loaded, though. I mean, private jets and a bottomless bank account loaded.” 

Sonya held up a finger. “Wait, is that the woman I’ve seen you with on Bill’s story?”

“That’s her.”

“Hm. She’s quite cute, to be honest,” said Sonya. Yaz arched a brow. “Well, I mean, if you’re gonna be a sugar baby, at least you managed to find someone hot instead of some ancient tycoon who pees in a bag and has a bottle of viagra on standby.”

Yaz cringed. “God, can you — please don’t refer to me as a sugar baby again. This conversation’s weird enough as it is.”

“Well, is that not what you are?”

“I dunno.” Yaz leaned her cheek against her palm and cocked a shoulder. “She caught feelings for me really early on, I think. I told her that’s not what I wanted, but…”

“Aw, she caught feelings and you kept rinsing her?” Sonya kissed her teeth and lifted her cocktail. “That’s cold.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m the devil. I’ve heard it all, don’t worry.”

Mostly, she heard it from herself. Whatever JJ’s thoughts about the fact that she kept taking advantage of her feelings for her, she’d yet to hear them in full. It’s not like that’s what Yaz had meant to do. She genuinely had herself convinced that JJ’s attraction to her was naught but a fleeting infatuation. Yaz thought it’d fade, in time. She thought JJ would have grown bored with her by now and that there would have been no harm done when things came to their inevitable end. Obviously, she’d been wrong. 

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” laughed Sonya. “Cheque that size, I don’t blame you.”

“Right, but it’s not really about that. The money, I mean,” confessed Yaz. “I always thought it were just a mutually beneficial thing, you know? Now, I’m not sure it can ever be just that.” 

The original plan had been to leave enough time for them both to cool off, so that they could return to the way things were. The easy way. The fun way. Yaz’s confession, true or not, made that an impossibility. There was no going back from something like that. 

“Thought you were on your whole ‘no relationships’ thing? Cleansing your heart of love, and all that?” queried Sonya, plucking the pineapple wedge from her glass and nibbling on the edge.

“I was. I am.” Yaz shoved her hands into the front pouch of her hoodie and shrugged. “People are shit.”

A flash of amusement crossed Sonya’s face. She’d heard it all before. “People have been shit to you, Yaz. That doesn’t mean all people are shit. Do you know how stressful it was living in that flat until that cheque went through? All our debts, bills — everything got paid off. With some left over. It was like everyone could breathe again,” divulged Sonya.

In point of fact, Yaz did know how stressful it had been. It came as a relief when she was able to leave that behind; when she was able to keep her distance and justify her absence because of the money she was sending and the grudge she was holding onto. 

She wasn’t proud to admit it, but part of her was glad to have been given a reason to sever ties. It meant she didn’t have to feel so bogged down by stress and tension all the time. Her home used to be a solace to return to, but somewhere along the way the laughter died, leaving only telltale sighs and hushed, repetitive arguments in its wake. Perhaps, if Yaz wasn’t a coward, she’d have set aside their differences. She wouldn’t have run. But that’s what she was best at. Avoiding. Hiding. Protecting number one at all costs.

It was beginning to take its toll. 

“I’m sorry I left you to deal with that, Sonya,” said Yaz in earnest. 

Sonya nodded. “It weren’t easy. But it’s in the past, now. Your sugar—” Yaz sent Sonya a pointed look— “your, um, older female friend with benefits made it all go away with a click of her fingers. She did that for you. So, I don’t really understand what the problem is.”

“The problem is that I’m a skint stripper with no prospects and she’s this insanely smart, selfless, decent—”

“You forgot rich,” interrupted Sonya. Yaz rolled her eyes and Sonya smirked. “Oh, give over, Yaz. No one’s too good for you. That’s bullshit. You’re a Khan, aren’t you? We’re too good for everyone else. If they don’t see that, bin ‘em. But it sounds like she does see that. Sounds like she’d lick the bloody ground you walk on.”

Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, Yaz glanced down at the rainbow patch on her hoodie. “And what if I do decide to give her a chance and it all blows up in my face? I really don’t think I can handle one more thing going wrong.”

“Can’t handle — what’s that mean?” frowned Sonya.

Yaz waved an airy hand. “Nowt.”

“Yaz…” Sonya tilted her head. “Remember the braces.”

Leaning back in her chair until the front legs lifted off the ground, Yaz gazed out at the highrises surrounding the terrace and wondered how open to be with her sister. She really didn’t want her to worry. There were enough people on her back at the minute. “It’s been a mad few months, that’s all.”

“So, I have a confession to make. I also had a nosey in your fridge and all your cabinets when you weren’t looking,” revealed Sonya. The front legs of Yaz’s chair slammed against the ground. “Don’t get mad! It’s just — you’ve lost a bit of weight. I know that usually happens when you’re down. Mate, your fridge is empty apart from a mouldy apple and a carton of expired milk. All your cupboards are bare, too. Except for alcohol. Speaking of, when did you become a bourbon person?”

The tips of Yaz’s ears burned. It was the kind JJ liked. “Leave it out, Son.”

“I’m serious, Yaz. Are you getting low again?”

‘Again’ would imply that she had ever been anything but. Slouched in her chair with her hands in her pockets, Yaz looked the picture of petulance when she averted her eyes and shrugged. 

“Well, it’s no wonder, Yaz! How long have you been keeping everyone at arm’s length and pretending you don’t give a shit about anyone? There’s only so long you can keep that up until it starts to get to you,” lectured Sonya. She shook her head. “The cure for loneliness isn’t loneliness. The cure for loneliness is reaching out. It doesn’t have to be me or mum and dad, even though they’re dying to see you. Just let _someone_ help you. Let someone be there for you, for once. I promise the world won’t explode if you admit that you can’t handle everything on your own.”

Yaz dragged her eyes up and levelled them on her sister. She regarded her quietly for a second. “When did you start getting all wise?”

“That’s what happens when you leave people behind, Yaz,” said Sonya. There was a solemnity to her words that sounded alien coming from her. “They grow up without you. They change without you.” Her eyes flickered over Yaz, implying that the change went two ways; that she was still searching Yaz in the hope that her faithfully annoying older sister was still in there. Somewhere. “The world goes on, you know? It’s up to you if you wanna keep this up. Next time we see each other, we could be total strangers. Is that what you want?”

That was the last thing Yaz wanted. Just because they’d had a falling out, that didn’t mean Yaz planned to become estranged from her family. They were her _family._ And, if what Sonya had told her about them turned out to be true, it could be that things weren’t as dire as Yaz thought they were. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to fix things. 

With her parents.

With JJ.

Sonya’s much needed reminder that the world did indeed keep spinning for people whether she was around or not made her think of JJ, too. If she left her behind, could she stomach the possibility of one day running into her and seeing that she’d moved on without her; changed without her? 

Yaz imagined bumping into JJ in the street and discovering that the spark between them was long dead. She thought about how it would feel to come face to face with her after so long and realise that there was nothing between them anymore; nothing in common except a brief, shared history. They’d make polite conversation, but they’d both conveniently have somewhere they urgently needed to get to. So, they’d say goodbye. They’d say it like acquaintances, like it didn’t mean anything, and then they’d go their separate ways. 

Yaz would turn around. She always did. 

But JJ would have moved on a while ago. She wouldn’t look back.

The very idea made Yaz unbearably sad. But so did the thought of putting all her trust and all her hopes in JJ, only for it to all come crashing down around them; for JJ to let her down. Was it worth the risk? Was JJ? And what was the alternative, anyway? The only one Yaz could think of was closing herself off again and throwing herself into an endless succession of parties and binges until she eventually ended up dead. 

Yaz didn’t know when her life became reduced to choices like this, or why she consistently made things so hard on herself. Maybe Sonya was right. 

Maybe she did need help.

They soon steered the conversation back onto lighter matters and spent the next couple of hours catching up. Sonya told her that their mum had finally found a decent job that acknowledged her qualifications, and that she herself had decided to start studying to be a mental health nurse now that she didn’t have to worry about holding down a job to help with the family’s finances. Yaz was glad to hear that things seemed to be back on track for her family. Finally.

It was late in the evening when Yaz walked her sister to the train station and bid her goodbye. Right before the turnstiles, however, Sonya paused. Yaz hardly had time to brace herself before her sister spun around and barrelled into her arms. And Yaz was glad she did it. She’d wanted to herself, but hadn’t known how to go about it, or if Sonya would think it was weird.

Really, she should have hugged her the moment she saw her. Guilt, shame, and bad blood had gotten in the way. But those things seemed to have lessened, now. The bad blood was circling the drain. Sonya pulled away and rested her hands on Yaz’s shoulders.

“Come home soon, yeah, no mark?”

“Yeah, all right, weirdo,” smiled Yaz, half-heartedly shoving her sister off her.

Sonya looked chuffed. “Love ya,” she called as she turned away. 

“Love you, Son.”

* * *

Food Yaz didn’t order arrived for her that night. 

Yaz didn’t think to be confused when the pizza arrived at her door; she knew who’d sent it. She set it on the kitchen counter and opened the box. Not only was the pizza topped with all her favourite things, including extra jalapenos, but there was a doodle of a ladybird on the inside of the lid. Yaz smiled to think of JJ taking pains to ask the restaurant to do that for her.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and called her. 

JJ answered almost straight away. “ _Yaz? You okay_?”

“Funny thing,” she started, leaning against the counter, “I don’t remember ordering a pizza, but one’s just showed up at my door. They made it exactly how I like it, an’ all. Can’t think who’d have sent it, can you?”

“ _Uh, nope. Beats me._ ” JJ paused. “ _Did they, um, is there a_ —”

“Ladybird? Yeah, there is.”

“... _You’re not mad about it, are you_?”

Yaz glanced over her shoulder at the pizza. “No, I’m not mad.” She took a breath. “But you’re right, babe. We need to talk.”

“ _Are you working this weekend_?”

“I’m free on Saturday.”

“ _Excellent. I’ll have a bit of work to do, so I’ll pick you up at eight_ ,” said JJ. “ _Oh, and Yaz_?”

“JJ?”

“ _Try the pizza. It’s very tasty._ ”

* * *

It was a slow crawl to Saturday. 

Yaz was continually tempted to go out and get wasted to fill the time, and to distract herself from the growing sense of trepidation overwhelming her like a rising tide, but she didn’t. She asked for a couple of extra shifts at the club instead. After working nights, she’d sleep through her mornings and occasionally spend her afternoons with Bill — once she got done reprimanding her for reaching out to Sonya without asking her, that is. 

As it was, she couldn’t very well stay mad at her given that Bill had actually done her a huge favour. Sonya and Yaz ended up keeping in contact after that day. Nothing but a daily check in, but it was a hell of a lot more than usual. 

Later in the week, when Yaz at last made the decision to walk to the shops to get a few basics in, she passed a flyer plastered to the chipboard bordering an old, rundown building. The flyer advertised auditions for a local production of an original play commencing in a few weeks. She took it home. It didn’t hurt to consider it.

Through all her many distractions, Yaz’s impending meeting with JJ cast a constant shadow over her like a storm cloud she wished would hurry up and burst already. She thought about what she was going to say a thousand times and changed her mind a thousand more. When the day finally came, she still hadn’t made her mind up. In the end, she decided to just wait and see what JJ had to say. For all she knew, she’d finally come to her senses and decided that Yaz wasn’t what she wanted, or needed, after all. 

Eight o’ clock came, and Yaz felt as if her guts had been tied into knots inside of her. 

The knots tightened when she stepped out of her building to find JJ waiting to open the back door of a limo for her. She was donned in a blue velvet suit and spotless, white trainers. Yaz felt immediately underdressed. She wondered if it was too late to change from her plaid trousers and cropped turtleneck into something worthier of whatever extravagance JJ clearly had planned. 

Upon her approach, however, JJ was quick to assuage her worries. “God, y’look lovelier every time I see you.” 

“Looking pretty dapper yourself,” offered Yaz. 

They both dithered uncertainly beside the car for a long moment, during which three words of unreasonable magnitude hung over them like a piano on a fraying rope. Yaz cleared her throat and JJ blinked into action, muttering an apology and stepping aside to open the door for her. When Yaz climbed into the blue-lit limo, followed shortly by JJ, she saw that there were champagne flutes waiting for them on the ledge opposite the sofa.

“We celebrating something?” wondered Yaz, as the car pulled away from the kerb. 

“Well, we’re both alive, and healthy, and it’s an unseasonably mild day.” JJ plucked up a flute and handed it to Yaz. She took the other for herself. “If y’look for reasons to celebrate, Yaz, you’ll never run out.”

Yaz sipped her champagne. “You’re in a good mood.”

“Actually, I’m really, really nervous,” confessed JJ. She tipped her glass and downed her drink in one.

“About what I’m gonna say?”

JJ reached for the bottle of champagne and shook her head. “About what I have to say.”

An uneasy, but not particularly lengthy, journey later, they pulled up to their venue. It wasn’t what Yaz expected at all. With a small brown parcel tucked under her arm, JJ climbed out first and gave the driver another run for his money when she opened Yaz’s door for her and helped her out by her hand.

Yaz realised, as they walked the path up to the building, that JJ had brought her to a botanical garden. At night. Though she was mystified as to why, she held her tongue and let the usher (since when did gardens need ushers?) at the door lead them across the building, through the enormous, lush greenhouse, and out into the gardens. Yaz didn’t fail to notice that they were the only people around. That soon became a matter of insignificance when they emerged from a tunnel of arched branches, draped in ivy and weaved through with string lights, and arrived at their final destination.

The scene awaiting them took Yaz’s breath away.

The garden itself was an open space consisting of a wide, stone pathway which intersected neatly arranged beds of vibrant flowers. The colourful petals splattered the grounds in harlequin hues: purple, red, yellow, orange, pink, blue. At the centre of the garden was a manmade pond. It was rectangular in shape, and water lilies floated, stationary, on the calm surface of the water. 

Lining the path that led them towards the pond were what must have been hundreds of lit candles. In the reflection of the flames, the water became liquid fire. The last candle was a tealight in a jar, positioned at the centre of a small table beside the pond. It was draped in white cloth, and two cushioned, wooden chairs were arranged at either side. 

“Jamie,” breathed Yaz, “what is all this?”

“This, Yasmin, is optimism.”

JJ pulled Yaz’s chair out for her and they both took a seat. A bottle of wine and two silver cloches covering their plates had been left out for them. The usher poured JJ a taste of her wine and, once she was satisfied, filled their glasses. JJ tipped him and he made himself scarce. Floored, Yaz watched him go. She hadn’t realised it was possible to rent out an entire botanical garden just for a date. More to the point, she hadn’t realised this was to be a date. 

“Money really can do anything, can’t it?” Yaz commented. She wasn’t sure what else to say. 

Ignoring the remark, JJ leaned her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her knuckles. The flickering tealight cast her features in soft orange. “How’ve you been, Yaz? Y’look a lot better than when I last saw you. Not that you ever look bad or anythin’, I just — you look in a better way, is all.” JJ scrunched up her face. “Sorry, is that rude? It sounds rude.”

Yaz chuckled. “No, it’s okay. Doesn’t take much to be in a better state than that,” she admitted, exhibiting an appropriate amount of remorse. “But I’ve been — I’ve been doing all right, yeah. Thanks for asking.”

“I’m really happy to hear that,” smiled JJ. “Um, go ahead and…” She gestured at Yaz’s cloche. 

For the second time that night, Yaz’s expectations were totally disregarded. She lifted the cloche hat and revealed not a gourmet meal or an imported delicacy or even JJ’s signature mac and cheese, but a takeaway box of noodles and a pair of chopsticks. Amused, Yaz lifted her eyes to JJ. 

JJ winced. “Yeah, sorry about that. Remember when you tried teaching me to make butter chicken in Paris? Well, I gave it my best shot. May’ve set the pan on fire. And burned my thumb.” JJ held up her hand. For the first time, Yaz noticed the rainbow plaster on her thumb. “But I weren’t gonna let you starve. I remembered that you liked these noodles, ‘cause we ordered ‘em one time a few months ago after we…” JJ trailed off, cheeks turning pink. She scratched her ear. “Anyway. Chili chicken, right?”

“Right.” Yaz would be shocked that JJ had been able to remember not only the name of the restaurant, but also Yaz’s precise order, if she didn’t already know that JJ had a steel trap memory. They both picked up their chopsticks and tucked in, but something Yaz couldn’t dismiss kept niggling at her. “Babe, you know, I didn’t realise you were gonna go all out like this. I thought we were just having a conversation.”

“We are! A candlelit conversation under the stars.” JJ pointed her chopsticks towards the sky, where distant stars pulsed and a fingernail moon, half hidden behind the branches of the trees across the garden, spied on their private rendezvous. “It’s just — this chat’s gonna go one of two ways. If this is the last time I ever get to see you, I wanted to make it special. If not, well, all the more reason! Is it too much?”

“It’s beautiful, JJ. But it kinda feels like smoke and mirrors. Like you’re tryna take the focus away from all our problems.”

“Oh.” JJ’s face fell and her eyes darted around at their surroundings self-consciously. “We can leave, if y’like. We can talk in the car. Or go to my place. Sit by the river, even.”

“It’s okay. We’re here now.” Yaz knew it wouldn’t have been an intentional ploy. JJ was a romantic; she couldn’t help herself. Anyway, she’d clearly put a lot of effort into the night and Yaz would only feel bad for making them leave.

“I’m glad y’brought up our issues, though,” said JJ. She put her chopsticks down, so Yaz did the same. “Yaz, I wanna apologise to you. From day one, you were upfront with me about what you wanted from our — our arrangement. You always made yourself clear about that. Still, I put a lot of pressure on you. It must’ve made you uncomfortable for me to constantly be so full on about my feelings when you never wanted that. Must’ve felt like a lot of pressure. I didn’t intend to make you feel guilty. I just get excited sometimes, but it’s no excuse. I’m really sorry about that.”

JJ’s apology was unexpected, to say the least. Yaz hadn’t come here hoping for one; hardly even felt she was owed one. It was true that JJ’s constant pleas for more, her brazen attempts to woo Yaz, had put her in an unpleasant situation, but she knew there was more than one guilty party sitting at the table. 

“I’m sorry, too, Jamie. We were both clear about what we wanted, we knew our end goals didn’t align, and we both kept steaming ahead anyway.” Yaz rested her hand on the table, leaving but an inch between the tips of her fingers and the tips of JJ’s. “I should’ve listened to you the first time you told me how you felt. If I were a better person, I would’ve let you go. I hurt you by staying. But you kept _letting_ me hurt you. I’m not a mind reader, babe. If something’s bothering you—”

“I know, I know,” sighed JJ. “I’ve been doin’ a lot of work on myself lately. There’s still a long way to go, but I’m makin’ progress. One of the things I’m tryna do is make sure my voice is heard. Make sure I’m clear about what I want.”

“And what do you want, JJ?”

“You, Yaz. Obviously.” JJ glanced at their not-quite-touching hands. “But not like before. I don’t want your kisses if they don’t mean anythin’ to you. I don’t want you comin’ in and out of my life ‘cause you’re scared to — to like me. I can’t keep lettin’ you string me along in the hopes that one day you might change your mind and choose me. It’s awful, Yaz. I don’t think you understand how awful it is. So, I either need you to be in this, or…” JJ dropped her eyes. “Or I need you to go.”

An ultimatum. JJ was full of surprises, tonight. Yaz could tell she’d been changing without her. Bettering herself. It brought to mind those fears Sonya had inspired about JJ becoming a brand new person in her absence. About becoming strangers. Mouth dry, she sipped her wine and wished it were water. Or else a litre of vodka.

“You told me you hate me the other night,” muttered JJ, absently fidgeting with one of her star-shaped cufflinks. 

Yaz’s shoulders slumped. “JJ, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

“You also said you think you love me. Did you mean that?”

And there it was. Out in the open. It hovered in the air between them like the dragonflies skimming the pond and Yaz fell silent. She hadn’t thought JJ would be so blunt about it. 

“To be honest, Yaz, I don’t think even you know,” JJ pressed on, “but you wouldn’t have said it if there weren’t some truth to it. I think you have feelings for me, and I think you resent me for it ‘cause you didn’t want them. ‘Cause you think you’re safer if you don’t feel anythin’. But d’you know how unfair that is to me? To blame me?”

“I do know that. And I don’t blame you,” Yaz insisted. The last thing she wanted was for JJ to believe that Yaz honestly put it all on her back. “Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to. It would’ve made it easier to move on from you if I hated you, but I can’t blame you for being yourself. And that’s all you ever were, Jamie. You were your usual, amazing self. You caught me off guard. Found a way in. If I made you feel bad about that—”

“You did. And you frightened me, Yasmin. When I picked you up from that club, you said you’d rather ruin yourself than feel anythin’ for me. It made me sick to my stomach. I don’t wanna be the reason you hurt yourself. You can’t put that on me. ‘Cause if somethin’ happened to you…” JJ’s lower lip quivered; her next breath trembled on its way past her lips. 

It was only then that Yaz understood the burden she’d unloaded onto JJ with her confession. Yaz was living her life without regard to her own safety and, in her drunken stupor, had pinned that on JJ. If she’d ended up hurt, or worse, JJ’s guilt would have known no bounds.

Yaz folded her arms to keep from reaching for JJ, whose eyes had turned glassy at the prospect of harming befalling her. “I just don’t know how to deal with it,” she confessed quietly. “No one’s ever made me feel like this before. And the way you care about me — it’s a lot. It’s not your fault. It’s me. I’m not used to it. No one’s ever been good to me like this, so I just get it in my head that it can’t be real. That there’s some kind of catch.”

“The only catch, Yaz, is that you’re gonna have to trust me. It’s hard for you, I get it. You said in the Louvre that you think I’m gonna outgrow you; said you don’t think you fit in my life and that I’m only gonna end up leavin’ you behind. Well, I didn’t come here empty handed. I brought an assurance.” From the table, JJ lifted the brown parcel she’d had to hand all evening. “Somethin’, I hope, will make y’realise that I’m not just divin’ into this without thinking things through. Honestly, Yaz, it’s all I ever think about.”

Taking the parcel from JJ’s hands, Yaz shot her a quizzical look. “What is it?”

“Open it,” said JJ. Yaz started to tear the brown paper off. “There are no strings attached to it, and if it isn’t what y’want then feel free to just shred it to pieces. No harm done. Also, um, it’s technically only part one. Part two isn’t quite finished. That’ll come later. If there is a later.”

Yaz peeled the last of the wrapping off, revealing a thick stack of paper threaded together with golden string. A tea stain marred the bottom corner of the front cover. The title, in JJ’s chaotic handwriting, read: _Yaz and JJ’s five year plan._

“JJ…” Yaz dropped the book to her lap. “I told you not to.”

“Look, it’s not what you — I haven’t disregarded my life or my business for you. I know that kinda pressure isn’t what y’want. All I’ve done is plan a future with you in mind, under the notion that I don’t intend to leave you behind or let you go any time soon. Not unless you ask me to. Take a look. Please.”

Reluctant, Yaz lifted the book and flicked through it. It was far too dense and detailed for her to take it all in right there — JJ must have spent hours and hours on it. Coinciding an influx of varied emotions too fickle to name, she noticed that JJ had allocated a set amount of time out of her schedule to spend time with Yaz. She’d even broken it down into categories: travel, dates, lazy days, family time, sex. There was even a section labelled “spontaneity/misc” that made Yaz laugh, because only JJ would try to plan for spontaneity. 

JJ had worked out that if she moved some funds around and delegated more responsibilities, she could allow for more time away from work. There was an arm’s length list of places she wanted to take Yaz, with notes about the best times of year and the top three things Yaz would enjoy, plus a bucket list of things she wanted to do with her. At the top of the list: _Kiss her on top of the Eiffel Tower. Make it a great one_.

The sketch JJ drew of her in Paris on the back of a receipt had been tacked onto one of the pages. Those melancholy eyes had been highlighted. An arrow coming off them led to a note. A vow. _Make her eyes smile, too._ Yaz’s vision blurred. Watery eyed, she looked across the table at JJ, whose leg was bouncing something wicked. 

“That’s the goal?” she croaked. 

“That’s the goal.”

Unlike JJ’s business plan, which all led up to a final figure, there was no monetary goal to accomplish here. Nothing about exponential growth or net worth. JJ’s five year plan was to make Yaz happy. Nothing more. Nothing less. Yaz turned the last page and stopped dead. A profession, in slightly neater script, was written bang in the middle of the page. 

_I love you, too, ladybird._

Motionless and expressionless, Yaz stared at the words. 

JJ loved her. 

“And, if you let me,” said JJ, “I’ll spend every day provin’ it to you.”

Crickets, the buzz of dragonflies, and the rustling of foliage in the temperate breeze were the only sounds for a while. _JJ loves me._ Wiping a warm tear from her cheek, Yaz closed the book and set it down carefully on the table. JJ stared at her tears. Her leg stopped bouncing. 

“Oh, you don’t want this at all, do you? I’m so sorry, Yaz, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” JJ grabbed the plan and got to her feet, facing the pond. “It’s fine, look, I can just throw it away.” She raised her arm to toss it into the water and Yaz sprang to her feet, grabbing JJ’s wrist just in time.

“Don’t do that.”

“I don’t mind, really. It didn’t take too long.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” joked Yaz. She kept blinking and more tears kept forming. “Besides, I didn’t take you for a litterer.” 

JJ pursed her lips, shame-faced, and lowered her hand. “Yeah, I probably woulda fished it straight back out, to be honest.”

A brittle laugh escaped Yaz’s lips. “You do love a grand gesture.” _You also love me_. “But what about your whole business plan? Biggest in five years, and all that? I didn’t see much about that in there.”

“It doesn’t matter if it takes a little longer, Yaz. Doesn’t matter if it takes a lifetime, s’long as it’s one I get to spend with you. And before you say it, I’m not givin’ anythin’ up for you. In fact, before I met you, I were unhealthily obsessed with my job. Hardly ever did anythin’ but work. It weren’t any kinda life.” JJ set the book down on the table so that she could take Yaz’s hands in her own. “But you make me feel like there’s more to it. More to do. More to see. More of a life to live. And I want it so badly. I want _you,_ Yasmin. And I won’t apologise for it anymore.”

Warm, earnest, wide open eyes gazed back at Yaz — lit up like guiding lanterns in the candlelight. Yaz followed them, and something slotted into place.

At long last, the right key. The key to a heavy door that so many had tried and failed to open in the past. Before now, none ever fit. Some caused damage trying to force their way in and then right back out, some didn’t make it close enough to try, and there were those who never cared enough to bother. Not JJ. Her key glided in effortlessly; their grooves a perfect match.

The key turned. Clicked. The door gave.

All it would take was a push. All it would take was a groan of old hinges and an invitation. 

In that same instant, Yaz realised — dared to admit — that she wanted this. She didn’t want to be the cold, stone fortress that none were brave enough to venture near for fear of her hostile defences. She wanted to be the welcome mat and the warm hearth in winter and the sturdy four walls that felt like home. She wanted to be that for JJ. Always had. And that scared her to death. 

So, did she crash the lanterns and burn it all down, or did she let her in? 

“Tell me again,” Yaz whispered. “Say it.”

“Say…?” JJ stalled for a few seconds, but when Yaz glanced at the book, the penny dropped and realisation struck her face like a solid thing. “Oh! Right, yes.” She peeled her hands out of Yaz’s and lifted them to her face so that when she next spoke, Yaz wouldn’t be able to shy away from either the gravity of her words or the absolute truth emblazoned onto her eyes. “Yasmin Khan, I love you. No! Scratch that — I’m _in love_ with you. Desperately. Totally. With every single atom of my body.” JJ afforded Yaz a faint smile and caught one of her tears with her thumb. “I’d drink my tea without any sugar for you, ladybird. I’d hold a thousand spiders and ride a thousand roller coasters and punch a thousand pricks in the face.” 

“I’d never ask you to do any of that,” sniffled Yaz.

“And isn’t that love? To be willing to do the unthinkable for you and know, in return, that you’d never ask me to?” JJ’s pupils flitted between each of Yaz’s. “You make me brave, Yasmin. In my worst moments, I think of you, and it makes me brave.” 

“But I’m a coward, JJ,” mumbled Yaz, every syllable a strain. “Always have been.”

“All it takes is a split second to be brave, Yaz. A single word can be brave. A yes, when all your life you’ve been saying no.” JJ thudded her forehead against Yaz’s and closed her eyes. “So, be brave,” she whispered. “Be brave with me. It’s terrifying. And it’s so worth it.”

Yaz took a deep breath.

“The truth is, Jamie—” _Be brave, be brave, be brave_ — “I never stood a chance against you.”

JJ pulled her head back minutely, scared to believe and searching Yaz frantically. Yaz’s smile was dewy and cautious. Apparently, it was enough. JJ’s face broke wide open and hope poured out in spades. “Um, what do you… does this mean—”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“I mean, I don’t think I can say it back to you yet, and we’ll have to take it slow, okay?” stipulated Yaz. Through a tearful smile, JJ nodded eagerly, keen to agree to every single one of Yaz’s terms no matter what they were. Yaz wiped the tears from JJ's face and let her hands linger. “But, JJ, I choose you. Your mess, and your matching boxers, and your social awkwardness. I want it all. I choose to stay.” JJ sobbed another disbelieving laugh. “So, please don’t let me down.”

“Never,” snuffled JJ. “I’ll never let you down.”

Yaz choked a laugh of her own. It felt good to be brave. “So then kiss me, you idiot.”

JJ crashed her mouth into Yaz’s. They were both laughing and crying and the kiss was clumsy for it. Clumsy, weepy, but so full of longing. Clutching at clothes and faces and hips, they held one another tight enough as if to say, _I’m never letting you go again._ Yaz’s door burst wide open and light flooded in through the gap between her lips. It skimmed the dust, the darkness; the shadows from every inch of her lonely, derelict heart. 

Blueprints to hand, JJ strode right over the threshold. The designs were rough and there was a lot of work to be done. 

But, for now, they laid the groundwork with a kiss.

They’d build the rest from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all ready for some smut cos I SURE AM


	10. no kinder sign of love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sup i know it's been a while but i got a new full time job a few weeks ago n sadly it takes up most of my time these days! anyway this is 22k of the most average writing i've ever done but it's all i could manage lol oops enjoy! x

“Didn’t I tell you we’d be back here, Yasmin? Right at this very spot.”

“Think it were a few steps that way, actually.”

“What? No, right here. I remember, ‘cause you were standing between these two—”

“I’m joking, babe.”

“Oh. Right.”

“So, what’re you waiting for?”

“Sorry, it’s just — the sun’s hittin’ your eyes right now and… Christ, Yaz.”

“What?”

“I couldn’t describe it to you if I tried.”

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“I always look at you like this.”

“Yeah, but you usually do it when you think I can’t see.”

“I could stand here and look at you all day. I could stand here and look at you for a lifetime and I don’t think I’d ever stop noticing new things about you; new reasons you’re the most beautiful thing in the universe… Even the way you roll your eyes at me. Yeah, just like that. Wait — why are you rollin’ your eyes?”

“The universe is a big place, babe.”

“Nah. Compared to how I feel about you, the universe is nowt.”

“God, you’re so cheesy.”

“Can recite a little Shakespeare for you, too, if y’like.”

“Please don—”

“My bounty is as boundless as the sea—”

“Kill me.”

“My love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

“Got that out your system?”

“One more.”

“Babe.”

“I can express no kinder sign of love, than this kind kiss.”

“Great. Is this the part where you kiss me?”

“This is the part where I kiss you.”

“Thank god for that.”

* * *

It was the small hours of the morning when JJ walked into Yaz’s club.

A month had passed since that night in the gardens. A month had passed since JJ took Yaz on an impromptu flight to Paris to hold up to the promise she made to kiss her dizzy on the Eiffel Tower. It had been a great kiss. Cinematic. Flavoured with hope and infinite intoxicating possible futures — intertwined and inextricable. 

Since then, things had been going well. Granted, Yaz hadn’t yet managed to tell JJ she loved her sober, and there still existed a distance between them that JJ was forever attempting to bridge, but she could see that Yaz was trying. It was all new to her, after all. Besides that, Yaz still dwelled in her head a lot of the time. JJ figured Yaz had more going on up there than she was privy to. It would have been unfair of her to expect Yaz to give JJ her all when so much of her was otherwise occupied with learning to love _herself_ **.** What kind of person would JJ be if she prioritised herself before that?

JJ tried to help in whatever ways she was able. Mostly, what that meant was being there for her. Being present. Making sure she ate, checking in over the phone when she couldn’t do so face to face, and sometimes picking her up from the club so that she didn’t have to go home alone. Yaz never asked, but JJ always offered.

Yaz was on stage when she walked in. As usual, a large crowd was gathered around her podium and a sea of notes was amassing at her feet. JJ stopped a short distance away to take her in. Bathed in blue light and suspended from the pole, it was hard to believe Yaz was but a mortal like the rest of them. She looked like an angel on stage. As a matter of fact, she was dressed more like a devil. There were red horns on her head and small, black wings on her back. It didn’t matter. Even Lucifer was Heaven sent.

As was a daily occurrence, JJ couldn’t believe her luck. Everybody in the whole room wanted her. None could have her. None but one. JJ promenaded towards her stage, already withdrawing her wallet. Yaz spotted her as she weaved through the crowd and smirked. 

Detaching from the pole, Yaz made a point of paying special attention to several of the men flanking the stage with lingering touches and almost-kisses, before sinking to her knees in front of JJ. She pulled her in by the knot of her tie and let her eyes fall to her wallet. JJ breathed a laugh and pulled out a handful of notes.

“Hiya, ladybird,” she greeted, tucking the money into Yaz’s bra. 

“You’re early,” Yaz purred.

“Didn’t wanna miss the show,” confessed JJ, dragging her eyes over Yaz’s body hungrily. “Love the outfit. Think y’can bring it home?”

Yaz ran her fingers through JJ’s hair. “Depends how generous you are.”

JJ slotted another few notes into the waistband of her underwear and licked her lips, unabashed. “Well, lookin’ at you, I just might fork out for a private dance.”

A bolt of mischief cracked like lightning behind Yaz’s eyes. She winked at JJ and made as if to get up and return to the pole. JJ had other ideas. By the straps of her wings, JJ pulled Yaz back down and stole a kiss from her sticky, scarlet lips for all the club to see. 

The resultant vulgar remarks and dog whistles were all lost on JJ’s ears. All she knew was Yaz’s hot skin, warm tongue; the hand at the back of her head. Even the thumping bass faded to white noise when Yaz sighed against her lips. After all this time, kissing Yaz still left JJ in a vacuum; inhospitable to any life, light, and sound that didn’t emanate from the two of them. The rest might as well have been fodder to a black hole.

By the time JJ released her, Yaz was shaking her head. Gentle, she shoved JJ back by her chest. “I’ll get you back for that,” she vowed, rising to her feet.

JJ popped her brows playfully. “Can’t wait.”

* * *

“You just missed the turning, babe,” said Yaz. 

They were in JJ’s Royce. Yaz was resting her hand on JJ’s thigh while she drove and, though that would have been more than enough cause for JJ to lose her bearings and get them completely lost, that wasn’t the reason for the missed turning. Yaz’s shift ran on later than anticipated — in part due to JJ’s insistence on a private dance — so she decided she may as well take a scenic route on the way back to her apartment. 

“First light’s in half an hour,” she explained. “Thought we could go and watch the sunrise. Unless you’re too tired? There’s some coffee in that flask, if y’need it.” JJ nodded towards the thermos flask in the aluminium cup holder.

“Is it—”

“Vanilla,” confirmed JJ. “Don’t worry, I put a reasonable amount of sugar in it.”

“Your ‘reasonable’ still worries me.”

“Well, at least it’ll keep you awake, eh?”

A short while later, they pulled up at an overlook on top of a steep hill. They were a meagre distance from the city, affording them a vista of glinting skyscrapers and neighbourhoods saved from total oblivion only by the diluted light of streetlamps and the occasional burning window. 

The predawn sky, indigo and scarce in stars, alluded to daybreak in the far horizon, where pale orange crept like fog from the skyline. With the vacant road winding behind them, and trees whispering in hushed tones amongst themselves at either side of the lookout, JJ felt worlds removed from civilisation. By Yaz’s side, what might have been a harrowing notion instead became a strange comfort. 

The two of them sat on the edge of the open boot, wordlessly gazing upon their soundly sleeping city, and JJ remarked that the world could have ended right then and she wouldn’t have minded. Bring on the apocalypse. Stub out all the stars. Set the moon on fire. So long as she had Yaz, none of it meant a thing. 

Beside her, Yaz shivered. She’d changed from her work getup into jeans and a light jumper, unprepared as she was for a frigid October sunrise. JJ turned around and dug around in the boot until she located an old picnic blanket. She draped it around their shoulders and shuffled until her arm was around Yaz’s waist, suddenly thankful for the freezing temperatures. They gave her an excuse. 

“So, how was your shift?” JJ wondered once they’d settled comfortably against one another. 

“Same old. You know.”

“Anyone give you a hard time?”

Yaz chuckled. “Why? Got an urge to deck someone in the face again?” She picked JJ’s hand up where it had been laying on her lap and ran her thumb over her knuckles. They’d since healed, which was more than could be said for the cut on her cheek. It was scarring — if faintly. JJ might have minded more, but Yaz always cracked that it made her look tough and kissed it whenever JJ was feeling self-conscious. JJ liked the kisses, and so had she grown fond of the scar.

“I just worry, that’s all,” said JJ. She glanced at Yaz out of the corner of her eye. 

Physically, Yaz appeared much healthier than she had a mere few weeks prior. She constantly had more people checking in on her: JJ, Bill, Sonya — even Amy had met up with her once or twice to share some of her self help tactics at JJ’s encouragement. JJ didn’t know much about what they got up to, because Amy insisted on doctor-patient confidentiality and Yaz never spoke about it. Whether it helped, she couldn’t say. 

In an ideal world, JJ would be able to keep tabs on Yaz more often. Alas, work occupied a great many of her hours, even after she implemented the changes laid out in her five year plan to allow for more downtime with Yaz. It was an unending source of frustration for JJ that she couldn’t put everything else on hold in favour of looking after her. Even if it _were_ possible, Yaz wouldn’t have wanted that. Her autonomy was important to her; she didn’t like to feel weak. In JJ’s opinion, there was a difference between weakness and openness, but Yaz always struggled to spot the difference. She was getting better at it, but it was slow going. 

It’s not like she’d expected all their problems to go away the second they got together, and they hadn’t. Yaz’s battle with self worth manifested itself as aloofness; as stubborn resistance to wholehearted devotion. Conversely, JJ’s unerring devotion was often her problem. Putting her own needs above the needs of others, or at least viewing them as equally important, was not something that came easy to JJ. Least of all where Yaz was concerned. 

All they could do was keep working on their respective troubles. All they could do was try, and be patient with one another, and pray that the pulse connecting their imperfect hearts would mend itself of murmurs in time.

“So, um… how’ve you been, Yaz? You been okay?”

Yaz leaned her head against JJ’s shoulder and didn’t take her eyes off the horizon. Already, the sky was beginning to lighten. “I am, now.”

As bloomed the morning, so, too, did an easy warmth in JJ’s chest ripen like the sweetest fruit. It was something that happened every time they touched; every time Yaz was brave enough to show her affection without fearing the fallout. She’d made an orchard of JJ. A citrus grove Yaz was free to wander at will, in which the sun always shone and the fruits all tasted like home. But a single word cast a shadow over the grove: now. 

_I am, now._

“How about the rest of the time?” asked JJ.

For a moment, Yaz didn’t answer. She released a breath that might have been a sigh and JJ waited, patient. “I have good days and bad,” Yaz revealed at last.

JJ peered down at her. “Why don’t you ever tell me when you’re having bad days?”

“There’s not much anyone can do about it.”

“Won’t stop me from tryin’.” When Yaz shivered, JJ rubbed her arm for warmth. On the other side of the city, deep purple had been diluted with baby pink and clementine. The few stars winked out one by one. “Do I ever make you sad, Yaz?”

Yaz lifted her head. Quizzical, she turned to JJ. “Why would you ask that?”

“Well, you always said your biggest worry was that you weren’t good enough. For me.” JJ always thought that to be the biggest puzzle in the universe. A riddle she couldn’t solve. She was still trying to convince herself that _she_ was worthy of Yaz; a conscious effort she made daily. “D’you still feel like that?”

“JJ…” Yaz looked down at her lap. “This is the first proper relationship I’ve ever been in. The first one where I actually care how it plays out. I’m trusting you like I’ve never trusted anyone else. So, sure, there are times when that scares me to death. There are times when I think there’s no way it can last, ‘cause that’s just how it’s always been, but I’m trying. I’m working on it.”

“I know. I can see that,” JJ assured her, squeezing her arm. “I just — y’know, sometimes, I get these nightmares where I wake up and you’re gone. God, the feelin’ it gives me,” lamented JJ. The nightmares would leave her with a baseless dread that lasted the whole day, or else until she got to hold Yaz again. “I wanna make sure I’m doin’ enough for you, ‘cause if you ever left again or — or if you went back to that dark place…”

“Hey,” said Yaz. She curled a hand around the back of JJ’s neck and waited for JJ to meet her eye. “You’re doing more than enough, babe. You’re perfect. Don’t worry yourself like that.”

“You’d tell me if there was more I could be doin’, right?”

“I would.”

“Pinky promise?” JJ offered her pinky finger. Yaz raised an amused brow, but curled her own pinky around it all the same. Satisfied, JJ pressed a kiss to Yaz’s temple and pulled her in tighter against her side. “Hear anythin’ about the play, yet?”

Yaz had auditioned for a local production a couple of weeks prior. JJ had been emphatic in her support and, when Yaz received a callback, had even helped her to run the lines of the monologue she was expected to read. If Yaz wanted out of the club, JJ would help her achieve that goal in whatever way she was able. Initially, Yaz had wanted to audition for a secondary character. JJ convinced her she had what it took to go for the lead.

“Got a call this morning, actually,” said Yaz.

JJ whipped her head around, attempting to gauge Yaz’s face and predict the outcome. Yaz was unreadable. “And?”

Yaz played it cool. So cool, in fact, that JJ initially mistook it for disappointment and geared herself up to tell Yaz how she could do so much better; how those people wouldn’t know talent if it got up on stage and moved them to tears. But then her composure desisted with the tug of a smile. “I got the part.”

“What? Yaz, that’s fantastic news!” enthused JJ, grinning broadly. She wrapped her arms around her in a sideways hug that Yaz was only mildly resistant to. “I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s only a small production,” shrugged Yaz, modest.

“Don’t do that. It’s somethin’ you’ve done for yourself — a step towards your dream. You’re allowed to be happy about it,” insisted JJ. She couldn’t stop smiling. “I knew you’d get it. You’re brilliant, Yasmin. Y’really are.”

“Get off it,” muttered Yaz, but she was doing a poor job at concealing her smile.

“My little thespian,” teased JJ. “Y’can expect me to recite a _lot_ more Shakespeare for you from now on. Shall I compare thee—”

“Jamie, I’m gonna walk home if you carry on.”

JJ laughed in good nature. “Well done, Yaz. Really.” She placed a chaste kiss on Yaz’s lips and then another for good measure, holding her eyes for just a second before she pulled back. “I were gonna wait until we got back but, since we’re celebrating, I’ve actually got somethin’ for you.” From the inside pocket of her blazer, JJ retrieved a keycard and presented it to Yaz.

A confused smile unfurled across Yaz’s features. “A keycard?”

“It’s a keycard to the penthouse elevator,” explained JJ. “To my place.”

Like that, the smile fell from Yaz’s face. “Uh.”

JJ sighed. She slid off the boot onto dewy grass and stood between Yaz’s legs. “Look, I know you still haven’t been stayin’ over much. I dunno if that’s on me, if I’ve not made it feel like somewhere you belong just as much as I do, but I don’t want you to feel like a guest in my home. Like an outsider. ‘Cause you’re not, Yaz. To be honest, it just feels empty without you there.”

“Babe, you always make me feel welcome there. That’s not why I haven’t been staying over,” admitted Yaz. 

“Then, what is it? It kinda feels like…” JJ fidgeted with the keycard and averted her gaze. “Kinda feels like you’re still holdin’ back from this. From me.”

Yaz put her hands on JJ’s waist and tugged her closer, tilting her head to peek through the curtain of her hair and seek out her eyes. “I said I wanted to go slow, remember? The key to your apartment isn’t exactly slow.”

“I’m not askin’ you to move in with me, Yaz. Although…” JJ opted not to finish the thought when Yaz sent her a pointed look, offering up a bashful smile instead. “I just want you to feel like you can come and go whenever. I don’t even have to be there, if you just need somewhere to go. I know how cramped your place can get. And you’re always moanin’ about your neighbours.”

JJ had offered to put Yaz up somewhere nicer, but Yaz was adamant that she had to draw the line on JJ’s generosity somewhere. She didn’t want to feel like a charity case. JJ understood that. Plus, now that she was keeping most of her earnings, Yaz was on good money. She could afford a lot more for herself; already had her eye on a new car and was setting some funds aside for when she eventually moved out. If Yaz was resolute on one thing, it was her independence. JJ would grant her that, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t also find a way to help that didn’t infringe upon her will. 

“Please?” JJ lifted the card. “Just take it? Can always give it back at any time.”

Yaz deliberated. Following an encouraging, and somewhat cheeky, smile from JJ, she rolled her eyes and took the card. JJ lit up. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna—”

“Doesn’t have to mean anythin’,” assured JJ, though she was bouncing on her heels. She cupped Yaz’s face, her skin cold but smooth, and Yaz peered up at her through thick lashes. “I love you, Yaz.”

“I know you do,” smiled Yaz. It was the kind of smile that said: _not yet. I’m not there yet, but keep telling me until I am._

JJ was happy to oblige. She kissed Yaz. Properly, this time. Dawn broke wide open upon the meeting of mouths, and neither of them had their eyes open to witness it. What did the sunrise have on Yaz’s lips, anyway? The sky exploded in dazzling hues of orange and gold, and all those many ripe fruits in JJ’s orchard exploded, too. She tasted the summery juice of them on her tongue; served that to Yaz through parted lips. A dish best shared.

They opened their eyes, and it was as though the two of them had turned the Earth towards the sun with naught but their kiss. Two lovers, way above the city, whom darkness dared not claim; for whom nights were never longer than they could bear side by side. 

JJ smoothed the pad of her thumb over Yaz’s eyebrow. “Bed?”

Tired, Yaz nodded. “Bed.”

* * *

The next day, JJ opted to work from home so that she didn’t have to stray too far from Yaz — who lounged in the bedroom watching Netflix, scantily dressed, and provided JJ with a most excellent view from the kitchen table. Or, it would have been an excellent view, were JJ not too wrapped up in stress to remember to glance up from her laptop every once in a while. 

She couldn’t tell you how long it had been since she’d torn her eyes from the screen, or how long her leg had been shaking and her fingers rapidly drumming the tabletop, when a plate was set, rather harshly, down in front of her. There was a fried egg sandwich on top of it.

“Eat,” commanded Yaz.

After a beat, JJ took off her glasses and looked up. Yaz was standing over her in a large T-shirt and not much else, her hair pulled up in a loose bun. “How did you — how long have you been in the kitchen?” JJ glanced between Yaz and the bedroom as if attempting to discern whether it was possible that she’d magically teleported herself into the room or if, indeed, there might be two of her. JJ could dream.

“A while, babe.”

“Oh. Right. Knew that. ‘Course I did,” blagged JJ. Her flimsy conviction withered under Yaz’s dubious glare. She cleared her throat. “Um. But I only just ate.”

Yaz lifted JJ’s wrist and pointed at her watch. “You ate _five_ hours ago. Take a break.”

JJ lowered her laptop screen. She stared at the sandwich, realisation sinking in at last. “You made me lunch?”

“It’s just a sandwich.” Yaz leaned against the table and folded her arms. “Don’t go on about it.”

And yet JJ couldn’t stunt the affected smile that flowered across her lips if she’d tried. Domesticity didn’t come naturally to Yaz. In fact, JJ couldn’t recall a time when Yaz had so much as poured her a bowl of cereal in the weeks since they’d reunited. It shouldn’t have touched her as much as it did, but it was proof, wasn’t it? Proof of change; of growth. JJ made sure Yaz ate when food was the furthest thing from her mind, and Yaz made sure JJ ate when stress gnawed away at her day. They were learning from one another; reading one another’s cues. Adapting. Falling into step. 

Okay, it was a sandwich. 

Could it not also be a small step forward?

Yaz peeled away from the table and rounded JJ’s chair. She stopped behind her and put her hands on her shoulders, gently working at the knots in her muscles. “What’s got you so worked up, anyway?”

“Oh, um — well, we’ve an employee whose performance has really been lacking and, I mean, we’ve given ‘em every chance to improve. Plenty of warnings.” JJ peeled a piece of crust from her sandwich and chewed slowly. “Looks like I’m gonna have to fire ‘em. I hate firing people. It is my turn, though. Jack took the last one.” 

“You’ve done it before though, haven’t you?” asked Yaz, kneading a particularly tight knot in JJ’s shoulder and prompting her to loll her head back against the chair with eyes half closed.

“Yeah, but it just makes me dead anxious. I tend to get all my words mixed up, and — well, one time, I sent someone away and they hadn’t even realised I’d just fired ‘em ‘cause I minced my words so bad. It’s not exactly my forte.”

Thoughtful, Yaz hummed. “Okay. Practice on me.”

“What?”

“Go on,” prompted Yaz. Her hands fell from JJ’s shoulders and she took a seat at the table. “Pretend I’m the person you have to fire. How you gonna do it?”

“Uh, I’m not sure if this is—”

“Be good to rehearse,” claimed Yaz. “Trust me. It’s just like playing a part, right? And your part is the big, scary boss. C’mon, lay it on me.”

JJ chewed her lip. After a moment’s delay, she nodded and sat up straighter. “Okay. Um, take a seat.”

“I’m already sitting, babe.”

“Doesn’t help if you call me babe,” huffed JJ, twirling a pen between her fingers.

Yaz quirked a brow. “My apologies, Miss Smith,” she drawled, no doubt all too aware that her formal address would summon an embarrassing flood of heat to JJ’s cheeks. 

Composing herself as best she could, JJ scooted her chair closer. “So, um, I’ve asked you in here because, after reviewing your performance for the past quarter—” Yaz plucked the pen JJ had been fidgeting with out of her hands and gestured for her to continue— “I feel — _we_ feel that you haven’t been upholding to the standards we maintain at the firm.”

“What’ve I done wrong?”

“Oh, well, you haven’t done anything _wrong_ , per se.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Babe, stop tryna protect their feelings. You’re firing them. They’re gonna leave feeling like shit anyway, so you might as well be firm with them,” advised Yaz.

JJ threw her hands up. “Oh, brilliant.”

“Isn’t Amy teaching you to be assertive?”

“I guess.”

“Really selling it there.” Contemplative, Yaz gave JJ a slow once over with her head cocked to one side. Her close scrutiny made JJ fidget in her seat. When her dark eyes flitted back up to meet JJ’s, there was a fine dusting of roguery in them that made JJ nervous. “You’re the top dog, yeah? But you’ve gotta act the part. You’ve gotta prove it, or no one’s gonna take you seriously.” 

“And how exactly—”

“Start with me.” Yaz got to her feet. JJ didn’t have time enough to deduce her next move before Yaz sank right onto her lap, prompting her to stutter out a series of vowels she couldn’t find use for. Yaz leaned into her ear. “What if I told you I’d do anything to stay? What you gonna do then?”

JJ didn’t have to be able to see herself to know she’d turned bright red. “Um, I highly doubt a fifty year old man with a husband and kids is gonna—”

“What if I beg?” whispered Yaz. She threaded her hands through JJ’s hair and grinded just enough against JJ’s lap to make her press her lips tight together. “What if I get on my hands and knees for you? Will you still be able to turn me away then?”

With a tremble of a sigh, JJ put her hands on Yaz’s bare thighs. “This isn’t fair.”

“What you gonna do about it, Miss Smith?” challenged Yaz. Her lips skimmed across JJ’s with every consonant and JJ felt her skin tingle in their wake. “Better show me who’s boss.”

JJ darted her tongue across her lower lip, eyes on her own pale fingers splayed across Yaz’s skin. “Yeah?” she asked. Her voice came out gruffer than anticipated.

“Yeah,” breathed Yaz.

In one sudden movement, JJ shot to her feet and lifted Yaz onto the table. She stood between her legs and cherished the surprise that flared across Yaz’s face; a surprise she smothered, whip-quick, almost as soon as it ignited. “I’m sorry, Yaz,” murmured JJ, cupping Yaz’s chin between her fingers. “There’s nothin’ you can do. I’ve made my decision.”

“I reckon we can come to an arrangement, don’t you?” implored Yaz, hushed and electrifying. Tender, she touched her lips to JJ’s. Pulled back. Kissed her again. Ghost kisses. Featherlight. Her fingers danced across the waistband of JJ’s joggers, teasing, before she slipped them up past the hem of her top and grazed her clipped nails along the cool skin at her sides.

Just as Yaz made to intensify the kiss, JJ forced herself to break away from it, leaning her forehead against Yaz’s. “My answer’s final.”

Yaz wasn’t deterred. “Anyone can be swayed, Miss Smith. All it takes is a little—” she dipped a hand inside JJ’s joggers and pressed her fingers flat against the crotch of her boxers, which were already warm with the heat of her— “pressure.”

JJ glanced down. “‘Fraid you’ve miscalculated,” she said. Her voice came out only a modicum less level than aimed for.

“How’s that?”

“I’ll be the one applyin’ the pressure today, _Miss Khan_.”

Cupping her hands around the backs of Yaz’s knees and dragging her close, JJ hardly afforded her enough time to wrap her arms around her back before she hoisted her up off the table and started to carry her in the direction of the bedroom. Yaz laughed and the clement gust of it tickled the tip of JJ’s ear. 

“I always forget how deceptively strong you are,” she confessed. 

“Well, allow me to remind you.”

JJ set Yaz down on the bed and waited for her to back up towards the centre before climbing on top of her. She hovered over Yaz, blonde hair tickling her cheeks, and pulled her thumb down over her lower lip. Yaz was bare faced and beautiful. Autumn’s noon sun, white behind a sheet of clouds, highlighted the brown in her eyes and her silky, jet dark hair; accentuated her dimples and the faint lines around her smiling mouth; made her ivory teeth shine like pearls. 

How could she be real? 

More to the point, how could it be that she was lying in JJ’s bed, hands locked together behind JJ’s neck, waiting for JJ’s touch? JJ could think of but one explanation: miracles did exist. They made fried egg sandwiches and called JJ babe, and they were far too beautiful for her clumsy mouth to ever dream of articulating.

Awestruck, all JJ could think to utter was a quiet, “Yasmin Khan.” 

Yaz’s lips twitched. “Jamie Smith,” she whispered back. 

Face cupped between JJ’s hands, Yaz closed her eyes to her kiss. It was deep and wanting, and their soft lips crushed together as if magnetised and impossible to pry apart. Upon slipping her hand up Yaz’s shirt, JJ was delighted to find that she wasn’t wearing a bra. She palmed a breast and moved her kisses to Yaz’s neck. Her pulse jumped against JJ’s tongue and JJ hummed, tweaking a nipple between her fingers and feeling Yaz’s irregular heartbeat quicken like she was plugged into her body. Like they were one — joined not at skin and nerve endings but at the soul.

“Pretty sure this is against company rules,” quipped Yaz. 

“Well, I’m in charge, remember? I own the place.” JJ lifted her head and grinned, wild and untempered. “So, if I say take your top off…”

Yaz lifted a brow. “Why don’t you make me, Miss Smith?”

JJ blew her cheeks out. “Y’really need to stop callin’ me that.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s drivin’ me crazy.” Sitting back, JJ tested the fabric of Yaz’s shirt between her fingers. It was thin. Thin enough that JJ could see the hard peaks of Yaz’s breasts poking against the material. JJ hesitated for only a second. She _had_ promised to remind Yaz of her strength, after all. Thudding Yaz’s head back against the bed with another firm kiss, JJ fisted her hands in her shirt and tore it open with shocking ease, leaving only shredded remains clinging to her back. 

Yaz gasped against JJ’s mouth and they both pulled back to look down at her exposed chest. “Kinda liked that top,” said Yaz.

“That’s okay.” JJ licked her lips and ran a fingertip from the base of Yaz’s throat to her bellybutton. She was running hot. “I’ll buy you a dozen more, if y’like.” Without further ado, JJ leaned over Yaz and peppered wet kisses over her collarbones, chest, sternum. At last, she took a stiff nipple into her mouth and scratched her fingers, scarcely hard enough to tickle, down Yaz’s stomach and towards her Calvins. 

Whilst she drew whorls around Yaz’s areola with the tip of her tongue, JJ dipped a hand between the valley of her legs and cupped her through grey cotton. Yaz squeezed her thighs together around JJ’s hand. Receiving the message loud and clear, JJ rubbed Yaz hard enough that, in no time at all, a patch of damp began to visibly soak through her underwear. Yaz sighed and JJ relocated her lips to the breast she’d neglected, sparing a single glance down and deciding, in that split second, that grey was her favourite colour on Yaz. Along with all the rest.

Yaz was all kinds of receptive to JJ’s touch. She bucked her hips, arched her chest; carded her fingers through JJ’s hair. JJ noticed and catalogued every single one of her subdued gasps — pieces of film in a reel she’d eternally cherish, that she might project them onto the backs of her eyelids on lonely nights.

JJ’s lips were wet when she pulled away from Yaz’s breast, but not quite in the way she wanted. Continuing to stroke Yaz in a manner she knew she’d soon grow frustrated with, JJ endowed upon her a fast and frenzied kiss and then pulled marginally back with wild eyes. “Y’know, Yasmin,” she panted, licking a dab of Yaz’s saliva from her top lip, “I think y’may have been right.” 

“About what?”

“I do need to eat.”

When Yaz laughed, JJ grinned. Sex with Yaz was different lately. Their sex had always been phenomenal, but it was so intense before (that was how JJ referred to things these days: before Yaz and after Yaz. She built her entire timeline around her, as though her reemergence was akin to the resurrection of Christ. It wasn’t. In JJ’s eyes, this was far more profound. A religion she could get behind. A deity she believed in — flawed as she was. None were ever truly disciples to saints, after all). 

Before, Yaz hardly ever used to laugh during sex. Not properly. It had always been a game of control for her. Sometimes, it still was. JJ wasn’t complaining about that; she enjoyed giving Yaz ultimate power over her just as much as Yaz enjoyed taking it. Nevertheless, JJ liked knowing that, every now and again, they could just have fun together, trust one another; be intimate in more than merely the physical sense of the word.

JJ let her eyes roam over Yaz’s body like a sculptor sizing up a block of marble and agonising over where to make the first mark. In truth, not a single amendment needed to be made. Yaz might well have already been sculpted by the gods, what with her immaculate abs, full lips; the tawny-gold skin JJ had tried and tried and failed to find fault in. 

“Babe, you’re doing it again,” said Yaz.

“Mm?” JJ hummed, distracted. 

“Can’t screw me with just your eyes, JJ.”

Only then did JJ realise that her hand had gone still between Yaz’s legs. It happened, sometimes. JJ would get so swept up in the ecstasy of fucking Yaz that she’d forget to actually fuck her. She spared Yaz a meek smile and then hooked her fingers over the waistband of her underwear. Whilst Yaz lifted her weight to help move the process along, JJ pulled the garment down her lovely legs and deposited them without further regard. Yaz shrugged the shredded tee off her shoulders. And there she was. Naked and oozing with anticipation. 

Tearing her eyes from between Yaz’s legs, JJ instead fixed them on her face. “Can we switch places?”

“You’re the boss,” Yaz reminded her with a coy shrug. “You tell me.”

“We’re switchin’ places,” blurted JJ. 

Yaz chuckled. Nevertheless, when JJ sat down beside her and tugged on her hand, Yaz obliged her request and straddled her lap. Eye level with her chest, JJ couldn’t help but mouth at one of her breasts while she ran her hands up and down her body. One of Yaz’s hands was curled around the back of JJ’s neck, scratching leisurely. The other, JJ couldn’t account for. Not until Yaz made an unprecedented moan and JJ pulled back to ascertain the cause, realising with a start that Yaz’s wandering hand had disappeared between her own legs. Yaz was touching herself. Yaz was sitting on JJ’s lap and touching herself.

“Yaz,” JJ gasped, transfixed.

“Miss Smith?”

JJ spent too long a moment ogling, slack-jawed and hungry-eyed, at Yaz’s fingers dragging lazy, back and forth motions along herself. Awestruck, JJ uttered a soundless curse. Yaz moaned again and JJ’s head snapped up, perpetually a fanatic of Yaz’s bliss in all its forms. Even if she was supposed to be the one supplying it right now, that didn’t lessen how satisfying it was to see Yaz’s mouth hanging open, her brow creased; her sultry eyes staring JJ down. 

“That’s s’posed to be me down there,” protested JJ, albeit without much force.

Yaz ducked her head and engaged JJ in a slow, wet kiss. They both moaned. When she at last peeled her lips away, Yaz replaced them with the fingers she’d just been using to please herself. She slid them past JJ’s teeth and then along her tongue. JJ purred, pirouetting her tongue around Yaz’s fingers and tasting salt and skin and Yaz. Just not enough of her. Once JJ had licked her fingers clean and smacked her lips, Yaz smirked.

“Want more?”

“Is that even a question?”

“Lie back, babe.” Yaz put her hands on JJ’s shoulders and eased her onto her back, reaching under her head to toss the pillow to one side. JJ bit her lip when Yaz knelt directly above her, sliding her hands up the length of her silk-soft thighs. She trailed open-mouthed kisses up the inside of Yaz’s legs and her cheek warmed as it neared the hot breach of her. She kissed the crease of her thighs, she kissed the skin above her pubic bone, and then she curled her arms around her thighs.

“Hold on to your hat, Yaz,” she advised. 

Instead, Yaz opted to hold on to her hair, weaving her fingers through it and tightening her grip. That worked just fine for JJ. She licked her lips, and then she tucked in. 

Yaz sounded just as incredible as she tasted when she started to moan softly not seconds after JJ’s tongue began to swipe through her velveteen folds. JJ was forever reminded, when she was between Yaz’s thighs, why sex with anyone else on the planet seemed so vastly unappealing; why she couldn’t bring herself to touch another even when Yaz had begged her to. Nothing made JJ happier than making Yaz happy. Making her moan. Making her cant her hips and pull JJ’s hair and hold her face against her whilst she rode her face.

“God — you’re so good, babe,” lauded Yaz, breathy and earnest. “So good. Keep going.”

As if JJ would dream of doing anything but. 

JJ nestled a finger inside of Yaz, divining a valley of slick heat and prompting a glorious grunt that spurred JJ to pump her finger faster; chase the movements of her body with her wanting tongue. JJ hummed, gratified beyond sense. Yaz tasted like someone she loved and she was overjoyed to serve her. JJ opened her eyes to find Yaz’s face twisted up in the thrall of bliss. As if sensing that she was being watched, Yaz looked down. Their eyes fastened on one another and Yaz smiled. Yaz smiled like someone JJ loved. JJ worked a second finger in.

“Fuck,” groaned Yaz, head tilting back. 

Yaz swore like someone she loved. Someone who maybe might possibly love her back and maybe might possibly find the courage to say the words if only JJ could click her tongue or curl her fingers in just the right way. JJ plunged them deeper like the words could be treasured inside of her and her sole purpose in life was to dig them out; dislodge them like gems from the wall of a cave. They were precious. Priceless. Rare. And they were stuck fast.

All JJ managed to prise free from Yaz were moans, gasps, her own name panted back to her. All gems — just not the ones she was holding out for.

Yaz pressed her lips together to mask a subdued whimper that still wasn’t lost on JJ, as nothing ever was where Yaz was concerned. Her scalp smarted where Yaz yanked blindly on her hair and JJ wasn’t complaining. The pain, she had come to find, grounded her in the moment. Made it feel real. Yes, this was happening. Yes, this was her life. 

“You’re such a good girl, Jamie.”

JJ made a muffled sound. Her gut turned with arousal and she dedicated every ounce of her concentration on the task at hand; on maximising Yaz’s pleasure in whatever way she could. Faster and deeper and totally, unerringly dogged. Not long later, Yaz began to tense up. She held JJ’s face firm against her until breathing room became but a notion. JJ was rapacious in her performance. She was loud. Insatiate. Content — almost.

Smothered in the heat of Yaz while she rode her pumping fingers and quick tongue, JJ felt firsthand the precise moment she came undone. Yaz clenched, fluttered against her mouth; her hips stilled and her head fell back and JJ guided her through it with ceaseless commitment. 

The words she was waiting for never came, but the way Yaz gasped her name sounded a lot like a sacred confession. Veiled. Spoken in a language that existed only between the two of them. It was a language consisting mostly of allusions, between-the-lines sentiments, hieroglyphic silences. Fortunately, JJ was a quick study on all things Yaz. By now, she’d learned the lingo. She understood.

Gradually, Yaz’s muscles went lax and she dropped her chin to her chest. A few loose curls tumbled free from her bun and framed her face and JJ didn’t bother resisting the urge to tuck one behind her ear.

“Good?” asked JJ.

“Always.” Still breathing heavily, Yaz rolled off JJ and lay back. JJ was quick to climb on top of her. Yaz laughed when JJ straddled her legs and kissed her neck. “JJ…”

“Not done,” JJ mumbled. She cupped Yaz’s jaw gently and caught her bottom lip between both of her own. Yaz locked her hands together behind JJ’s head, urging for a headier kiss, and JJ sank her tongue into her mouth at the same moment as she sank a hand between her legs. 

Yaz made a throaty noise — heaven on JJ’s lips. She was throbbing to the touch, swollen and utterly deranging, and JJ’s deft fingers worked swift, exact, methodical. It was only a couple of minutes before Yaz was gripping JJ’s shoulders in a manner that alerted JJ to her impending collision with euphoria. JJ pulled infinitesimally back to watch her face when she came. As ever, she wasn’t disappointed.

A dulcet moan flowed free from her parted lips: kiss-red and shining with JJ’s saliva. Her back arched, her forehead creased to accommodate her drifting eyebrows, and her whole body became awash in the halo glow of rapture. 

Yaz came like someone she loved.

When she finally slumped back onto the bed, JJ removed her hand. Yaz pulled her in by the collar of her shirt for a kiss that articulated her gratitude better than any words might have done. When the need for air became too much, they broke apart and JJ rolled off her. Side by side, they lay for a short moment in comfortable quietude. JJ felt Yaz’s finger nudge against her own. Intentional or not, JJ jumped at the chance to wind their fingers together. 

“Pretty sure I won’t get away with doin’ that at the office,” cracked JJ.

Yaz grinned. “Held your own, though,” she pointed out, giving JJ’s hand a light squeeze. “I’ll help you practise later. Promise.”

JJ’s phone buzzed before she could reply. Sliding it out of her pocket, she glanced at the screen to find that it was a text from Bill. She quickly pocketed it again without allowing Yaz a chance to see who was messaging her. 

“Work?” Yaz asked.

“Uh, yep. Yes. Duty calls, I’m afraid.” JJ hated lying to Yaz. In this case, it was necessary. 

“Duty can wait a little longer, can’t it?” Yaz climbed on top of JJ, locked hands with her, and pinned them to the bed at either side of her head. 

“I really should get back to work,” said JJ, but her eyes raked slowly over Yaz’s body and she couldn’t deny the heat between her legs or how insincere she sounded. They both knew JJ would never choose floorplans and spatial composition over so much as a chaste kiss on the lips from Yaz.

“Don’t worry babe,” Yaz drawled, pressing a quick peck to the tip of JJ’s nose. “This won’t take long.”

* * *

Two days later, JJ’s apartment was hectic with activity. 

Bright in the white, mid-afternoon light, the penthouse accommodated caterers in the kitchen, florists setting up arrangements throughout the space, plus a constant influx of deliveries incoming from bakeries, breweries, and wineries. As such, she’d left the elevator in service mode and, having been too preoccupied with guiding two men wheeling a massive cake through the apartment to ensure that no damage befell it, she didn’t notice Bill’s arrival until she let out a low whistle from behind her. JJ spun around to find her standing in the living room with her hands on her hips.

“Hiya, Bill!” greeted JJ with a broad smile. She crossed the room to give her a fleeting hug, which Bill returned distractedly. 

“All right, mate?” she asked, pulling back and continuing to sweep her eyes across the room. “Gotta say, you and me have much different ideas about the meaning of low key. Nice duds, by the way.”

“Yeah? Thanks.” Modest, JJ shoved her hands in the pockets of her trousers. She was in a relaxed, merlot suit with an oversized blazer. Her cropped trousers shimmied the heels of her squeaky clean black brogues. After a reasonable amount of deliberation, she’d opted to leave out the tie. If she showed up looking overly formal, the gig would be up in no time. Obviously, Bill thought she still wasn’t casual enough. 

She popped open the top button of JJ’s ironed-to-perfection white shirt and rolled up her jacket sleeves, eerily reminiscent of Yaz’s tendency to do the very same, and then tapped her affectionately on the cheek with her open palm. JJ scrunched her nose up but didn’t object. 

Bill nodded. “Much better. Look a bit less like you’re gonna announce that you’re running for office now.”

“Why would I run for office? I’m not even American.”

“All right, Prime Minister.”

“But why—”

“Oh, nevermind.” Bill’s gaze slid past JJ and landed on a spot somewhere over her shoulder. JJ didn’t have to turn to know she’d be eyeing the bar and the boxes of whiskey, rum, vodka, and gin she’d had imported from various esteemed distilleries around the world. Presently, they sat in unopened boxes on the countertop. The wine was already in the rack, hidden from sight underneath the granite surface. “You gonna offer your guest a drink then?

JJ sighed. “Would y’like a drink Bill?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Rolling her eyes, because Bill was nothing if not predictably predisposed to a good time, JJ led her towards the bar. “Don’t think it’s all too much, do you?” she asked, self-consciously looking over her shoulder at the terrace — where the hired handymen were stringing lights up around the branches of her potted plants and stocking up the much smaller outside bar. 

“Well,” began Bill, hoisting herself up onto a stool whilst JJ unboxed a case of bourbon, “she’s defo gonna be surprised. Is that a jukebox?” She pointed her thumb towards the living room, where a jukebox was being unloaded from a hand cart alongside several large speakers.

“Custom made,” confirmed JJ. She dropped a couple of ice cubes into Bill’s drink and slid it across the bar towards her. “Had it decked out with a bunch of songs from Yaz’s Spotify. Plus some stuff we’ve listened to together. I remember her sayin’ she wanted one, so.”

Bill scoffed. “Christ. Last bird I dated bought me a candle for my birthday.” She picked up her glass and eyed JJ. “You know mate, if things don’t work out with you and Yaz…”

“Piss off, Bill.”

Sniggering, Bill sipped her bourbon and sighed her content. “So, how is the birthday girl? Spoke to her yet?”

JJ shrugged. “Been textin’ her a bit to confirm our plans. It’s weird — she’s still not even told me it’s her birthday.” As a matter of fact, JJ would still have been none the wiser had Bill not reached out to her about arranging something. Of course, as soon as she found out, she decided on the spot that such an occasion was not to go uncelebrated. Especially given everything they’d been through. Yaz deserved to have some fun. She deserved to be reminded of how much people cared for her.

“Ah, wouldn’t take it personally,” dismissed Bill with a flap of her hand. “It’s been a few years since she’s celebrated her birthday.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to spring this on her?” JJ asked for the millionth time. She was aware that it was a bit late to make other arrangements now, but she felt a little uneasy about the whole thing. If it didn’t go down well, she ran the risk of ruining Yaz’s birthday. She ran the risk of rocking the boat _again,_ when the waters had only just calmed for them.

“Mate, she’s got a lot more to celebrate these days. She’s talking to her sister again, she’s got you, she’s thinking about moving on from the club now that her family’s doing okay. Things are looking up for the first time in forever. Trust me, she needs this.”

JJ chewed her lip and nodded, allowing Bill’s suppositions to mollify her. She took a seat on the stool adjacent to her. “Just don’t wanna give her any reason to be upset with me, that’s all.”

Bill rested her chin on her knuckles. “How’ve the two of you been lately?”

“Great, actually,” enthused JJ — and then she paused. “Well, we’ve not been fighting. We’ve been having fun. Lots of it. Um, but…”

“But?”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love fun. Fun’s brilliant! Fun with Yaz is even better.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Bill quipped under her breath. 

“That said,” JJ went on, ignoring Bill’s remark, “relationships aren’t just about having fun, are they? We were doing that at the beginning. All play and no work. We both agreed that we wanted more out of this. That we’d put the effort in.”

Bill cocked her head. “She isn’t putting any effort in?”

“No, she is. Sort of. It’s...” Vexed, JJ ran a hand through her hair and tried to figure out how best to word her concerns without painting Yaz in a bad light — because that wasn’t her intention, nor was that the light within which JJ viewed her. Ever. “Guess it still kinda feels like there are all these invisible boundaries. She still won’t stay over more than once or twice a week, if I’m lucky, and she hasn’t told me she loves me since that night she got spiked. I don’t wanna rush her but, frankly, it’s startin’ to feel like square one all over again.”

“It’s definitely not square one, mate. She’s happier now, I can see it in her face. You didn’t know her before, but that downward spiral wasn’t her first. Never went down like that before, but Yaz spends half her life in her head. She gets down a lot; forgets to take care of herself.” Bill sighed, and the vacancy behind her eyes told JJ she was no doubt reflecting on some of the worse states she’d seen her best friend in. “But now — the way she talks, and carries herself, and laughs more — everyone can see she loves you to bits. If she’s not acting like a person in a relationship, it’s because it’s all new to her. You’ve just gotta give her some time to adjust, ‘cause she knows she’s got a good thing with you. I know for a fact she doesn’t wanna throw it away. In fact, I’d put money on it. A brand new Ferrari, maybe. What d’you say?”

After filtering out Bill’s latter remark, JJ discovered that much of what she’d said, astonishingly, assuaged her fretting some. “You really think she’s happier with me?”

Endeared, Bill smiled. “You know all those big feelings you have, JJ? The ones that explode out of you? All that love and fear and joy you feel when you’re with her? If you ask me, Yaz’s feelings are exactly as big as yours. Maybe bigger. She just has different ways of showing it, is all. Subtler ways. But if you look for them, you’ll see them.” 

JJ considered her point with a slight furrow between her brows. “She did make me a sandwich the other day.”

“Shit. Alert the bloody presses,” joked Bill. 

“She’s never made me a sandwich before.”

Bill gave JJ a long look she couldn’t decipher. “Yeah,” she said at last, “I think the two of you are gonna be okay.”

“God, I love her so much, Bill,” sighed JJ. Her pining was palpable. Already, she was aching to see Yaz, touch Yaz, wrap Yaz in her arms — and it hadn’t even been forty eight hours. Love so large should have been impossible. How could JJ’s small body fit so much and not burn up? Another miracle. They showed up in spades wherever Yaz went. 

“Hell of a sandwich then?” teased Bill. JJ shot her a pointed look and she snorted. “Look, just keep reminding her, yeah? Remind her that it’s real, that you love her, yadda yadda… you get the gist. Yaz is a tough one to crack, but you’ve got further than anyone else. And she’s worth it.” 

“I know she is,” JJ insisted. “Believe me.”

“I do, mate.” Bill took another sip of her drink and then frowned when she caught a glimpse of the watch on her wrist. “Shouldn’t you get going? Got a hot date, haven’t you?”

JJ’s eyes widened. “Oh! Right!” She sprang to her feet and checked her reflection in the mirrored backbar, smoothing down her hair and adjusting her collar. Once satisfied, she turned to Bill. “You’ll be okay holding things down here?”

“‘Course. Got a fully stocked bar, haven’t I?” Bill raised her glass and winked. “I’ll let you know when everything’s ready. And please, JJ, keep a lid on it. It’s a _surprise_ party, yeah?”

“I know that!”

“Right, but you’re a shit liar.”

“It’ll be fine, Bill,” JJ assured her, rounding the bar and heading for the elevator. She squeezed Bill’s shoulder on her way past. “Have a little faith!”

She only just caught Bill’s grumbled, “Famous last words,” before disappearing out of ear shot.

* * *

Yaz was fifteen minutes late.

Technically, she was sixteen minutes and thirty four seconds late. Not that JJ was counting. She had offered to pick Yaz up on her way, but Yaz had insisted on meeting her in town, so JJ waited on the busy high street. Pacing. Probably, she shouldn’t have shown up twenty minutes early — but that was JJ. Keen and eternally itching to see Yaz. 

When JJ finally spotted her making her way across the street towards her, she lit up on a molecular level. JJ had sent her a new outfit and politely suggested she wear it for their date. To her total glee, Yaz had indulged her request. 

Heeding the cooler weather, the dress she’d picked out had long, balloon sleeves. The layered skirt cut off above Yaz’s knees, and the black fabric was adorned with a red, all over floral print. JJ hadn’t chosen the dress for its low cut V-neck, but that certainly helped her to make her decision. As expected, Yaz looked a treat. She might as well have been dusted in sugar and cinnamon and served up on a hot plate. Her hair fell in loose curls around her shoulders, through which JJ glimpsed the diamond earrings she’d sent alongside the dress. She wondered if Yaz was wearing the new lingerie she’d also bought for her. She hoped so. 

“Hiya, Yaz!” called JJ, bouncing excitedly on her toes as Yaz approached with a brief wave. “You look phenomenal.”

“Hey, babe,” smiled Yaz. Lacking the patience to wait for Yaz to take the few short steps remaining between them, JJ strode towards her, picked her up in her arms, and spun her around on the spot. Yaz made a startled sound, which then became a laugh as she wound her arms around JJ’s shoulders. “Put me down, you idiot.”

Obliging, JJ set her back down, but didn’t let her get far without stealing a kiss she’d been aching for since their last. “Missed you,” she crooned, holding Yaz by the hands and failing to keep her eyes north now that they were standing so close. It really was a swooping cut. Yaz filled the dress excellently. She cleared her throat, all too knowing, and JJ snapped her eyes back up and hunched her shoulders apologetically.

Yaz’s smile grew a little wider. “Subtle.”

“Y’know I can’t help it when you show up lookin’ like… like _that_.” Once again, JJ’s attempts at reining in her wandering eyes fell short.

“You chose the outfit, JJ. And you defo knew what you were doing, didn’t you?”

JJ gave a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe.” She let go of one of Yaz’s hands and they set off along the street, fingers intertwined. “You had a busy day, so far?”

“That your way of asking why I were late?” quipped Yaz, bumping JJ’s shoulder with her own when she gave a meek smile. “Sorry, babe. I got here as fast as I could but I got held up. With Bill.”

JJ’s footsteps faltered. She frowned at Yaz. “You were with Bill? Just then?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Yaz was lying. Why was Yaz lying? JJ might have asked — might have revealed that _she_ was just with Bill, which made it impossible for Yaz to be telling the truth — if it didn’t risk ruining the surprise. “Um, no reason,” she mumbled. Then, opting for a subtler approach at getting more information out of her, she asked, “So, what did you get up to?”

“Not much. Same old, really,” dismissed Yaz, watching the people pass them by as they walked rather than look JJ in the face. JJ’s heart was skydiving without a parachute. “What about you?” 

JJ pursed her lips, realising that Yaz was intentionally turning the conversation around. And yet she had no choice but to let her. “Mostly, I spent all day thinkin’ about you.”

“Yeah?” Yaz looked sidelong at JJ with a soft smile. “Me too.” 

“You spent all day thinkin’ about yourself?”

“No, thinking about _you,_ you daft…” Trailing off, Yaz let out an exasperated chuckle at JJ’s expense.

JJ’s head turned sharply towards her. “Really?” she asked, bringing them both to an abrupt halt at the crossing in the road, despite the lack of traffic, as she waited for the man to turn green. Yaz humoured her cautiousness and waited right beside her. She tilted her head at JJ.

“That surprises you?” 

“To be honest,” began JJ, as the lights changed colour and they set off across the road, “it surprises me every time you take my hand, ladybird.”

Yaz squeezed her hand in response, and JJ imagined all her worries regarding Yaz’s dishonesty as a small flame between their palms — smothered of oxygen and extinguished. If only it were really so easy.

In reality, all it did was burn. 

After treating Yaz to late lunch and a couple of drinks at the kind of place so expensive there were no prices on the menus, JJ surprised her with two tickets to the theatre. She’d hoped it might be as romantic as it was inspiring, what with Yaz beginning rehearsals soon. 

If she’d had it her way, JJ would have made Yaz’s birthday so much more spectacular. She’d have told her to point to a spot on the map and whisked her away on her jet, bought an island and named it after her; paid for a billboard in New York City with her face on it and taken her to see it. JJ would have made the whole world aware that it was Yasmin Khan’s birthday — a national holiday, to be sure. 

Alas, given that she wasn’t even supposed to know about it, and because of Yaz’s apparent reluctance to celebrate, JJ decided to play it safe. Theatre and a surprise party was as safe as she could manage when all she wanted to do was shower Yaz with affection and gifts and travel and boundless displays of her deathless love. Fortunately, Yaz seemed content enough with box seats for a stylish production of _Pride and Prejudice_ — in which Mr. Darcy was played by a masculine woman whom Yaz joked made the show a lot more enjoyable, until JJ pouted and she had to convince her she was only joking. 

In truth, JJ wasn’t bothered so much by the remark as she was the sentiment behind it. Was Yaz really still noticing other people? Was that why she’d lied about her whereabouts? The thought of Yaz sneaking around behind her back made her skin crawl and itch and sting. She had half a mind to tear it all off. 

JJ became so fixated upon Yaz’s lie that she could scarcely focus on the play. Because they had never explicitly labelled themselves exclusive, JJ fretted that she’d jumped to conclusions on that front. Of course, there could have been any number of reasons for Yaz’s lie. JJ was keeping a secret too, and she only had the best of intentions. Who was to say Yaz’s reasons weren’t similarly altruistic? 

Apparently, JJ didn’t mask her distress as well as she’d hoped. 

During the second half of the play, just before the final act, Yaz tapped JJ on her shoulder and nodded her head towards the curtain over their shoulders. She didn’t wait for JJ to protest before getting to her feet and heading for the exit. JJ, therefore, was left with no choice but to follow her out of the theatre and across the hallway into the bar — nerves rapidly dividing and multiplying like cells.

The theatre bar, devoid of patrons and staff, was a softly lit room of dark wood and forest green sofas. Gentle music played from an indeterminate source. Opposite the bar, Yaz took a seat at one of the sofas and set her clutch down on the coffee table. At the back of the sofa was a wall of box shelves displaying various knick knacks: a globe, vases, plant pots, dusty old books. Dithering, JJ stuffed her hands into her pockets and studied a portrait of the theatre’s founder, illuminated by a lantern wall lamp and framed by unnecessary red drapes. His pallid complexion made him look as uneasy as JJ felt.

“JJ?” Yaz gestured to the seat beside her. 

“Why did we leave?” asked JJ. “D’you not like the play? It got really good reviews. I thought you’d—”

“Sit down, babe,” Yaz cut in. Eyes darting regretfully towards the door, JJ obeyed. She sat down beside her, stiff and uncertain, whilst Yaz leaned against the armrest and cocked her head in an effort to chase JJ’s evasive gaze. “So are you gonna tell me?”

JJ’s mouth went dry. She wondered where the bartender was. “Tell you what?”

“What’s wrong?” Yaz put her hand on JJ’s shaking leg.

“I — nothing’s wrong. It’s not important. We’re missin’ the final—”

“It’s important,” Yaz insisted. “Something’s obviously on your mind; you’ve been fidgeting all afternoon. Just tell me, Jamie. I’m listening.”

JJ paused. The last thing she wanted to do was accuse Yaz of being a liar and start a fight on her birthday, not least because they might never even make it to the party were that to happen. So JJ didn’t mention the lie. She shelved it. It’s not like she had any idea what it meant anyway. But Yaz still needed an answer, and the longer she sat there watching her with that unbearably reassuring smile on her face, the harder it became for JJ to think of anything except—

“I know it’s your birthday,” she blurted at last.

Initially, Yaz didn’t react. A few seconds passed and she blinked and leaned back, her hand slipping from JJ’s thigh. “Oh,” she said. A small frown worked its way onto her face. “How?”

“Um, I think y’must have mentioned it a while ago,” blagged JJ, determined not to give Yaz any cause to suspect anything. Bill would kill her. Fortunately, Yaz seemed to accept JJ’s lie as a possibility. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yaz shrugged and looked down at her lap. “I just don’t like to make a big deal out of it.”

“But why? You deserve to be made a big deal of, Yasmin. More than anyone.” JJ pulled a leg underneath her to better face Yaz, who had gone quiet all of a sudden. “Is it because of your family?”

“That’s one part of it.”

“What else?”

“I… believe it or not, JJ, I don’t actually have a lot of people left in my life who care. Most of the friends I had, I pushed away. Just like my family. It’s kinda what I do, remember?” Yaz smoothed out the skirt of her dress. If anyone was good at recognising tactics to keep their hands busy during uncomfortable conversations, it was JJ. She covered one of Yaz’s hands with her own until Yaz looked across at her.

“You think nobody would turn up for you, is that it?”

Frustrated, Yaz sighed. “I think birthdays are s’posed to be this exciting, happy event. I haven’t exactly been very happy lately. Haven’t felt much of anything. And that’s changed since I met you, Jamie, but…”

“But it’s new?”

“Yeah. It’s new. Besides, this—” Yaz gestured between the two of them— “is enough for me. Spending the day with you. It’s more than enough. I don’t need a big party. I don’t need a thousand people I barely know crowding around me. All I wanted to do today was see you.”

A pit opened up in JJ’s stomach, so wide and deep it might well have led directly to hell. She tried to convince herself that it would be good to prove Yaz’s assumption that nobody would be there for her wrong, but Yaz was explicitly telling her that she didn’t want a party. Was it too late to call the whole thing off? 

“Are you okay? You look paler than usual,” remarked Yaz. 

JJ cleared her throat and opted to steer the conversation in another direction. “Um, I actually got you somethin’,” she revealed. She was going to wait until the party, but since _one_ of the cats was out of the bag, she didn’t see any sense in waiting.

“Babe…” sighed Yaz.

“I know, I know. I couldn’t help it.” JJ reached into the inside pocket of her blazer and pulled out a slim, black box with the name of a highly esteemed jeweller embossed on the lid. She handed it to Yaz. “Happy birthday, Yasmin.”

Resigned to JJ’s giving nature, Yaz offered a grateful smile and opened the box. JJ watched her face closely. Tempering JJ’s tense apprehension, Yaz’s whole face softened when she lifted the lid. JJ’s softened in kind. She knew it had been a gamble to buy Yaz a gift but, when she lifted the necklace from its cushion and held it up to the light, running her thumb carefully over the silver ladybird pendant at the end, JJ was sure she made the right call. 

“Um, if you turn it over there’s a — there’s an engraving on the back.” 

Yaz turned the ladybird over. Indeed, stamped onto the silver in tiny lettering were a series of Roman numerals. JJ was on the verge of explaining, but didn’t get the chance. “The date we met,” surmised Yaz, voice infused with fondness. 

“Um. Yeah,” breathed JJ, baselessly startled to find that Yaz remembered. Self-conscious, she rubbed the back of her neck. “I know it’s not much. I wanted to do so much more for you, but it was suggested to me that you might not want that. That said, if that’s not true, if there’s anythin’ else in the world you want — anywhere you wanna go — just say the word, Yaz. I’ll do anythin’ for you. In fact, I were lookin’ at this beach house off the coast of—”

“Babe,” interrupted Yaz, lowering the pendant. “This is gorgeous.”

JJ swallowed. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Smiling, JJ held out her hand. “Can I?”

Yaz handed over the necklace and, when she turned to expose the back of her neck, JJ swept her hair out of the way and draped the chain around her throat. Still holding the pendant, Yaz looked down and admired it as JJ fastened the chain. 

“Close to your heart,” said JJ. 

“As you should be.”

Cheeks reddening, JJ dropped her hands and pressed a kiss to Yaz’s shoulder. The song changed to something slow and dreamy, but it might just as easily have been the way the world sounded when Yaz turned and looked at her like that. The bar was still empty, and Bill still hadn’t texted to let her know that everything was ready, so JJ formed an idea. She got to her feet and offered Yaz her hand. 

“May I have this dance, Miss Khan?” she drawled with mock-chivalry. 

Yaz looked around. “What, right here?”

“Right here.”

“Thought you hated dancing,” said Yaz, but she took JJ’s hand all the same and allowed her to lead her towards the empty space between the seating area and the bar. 

“But I love you,” JJ reasoned. She pulled Yaz close. “And anyone can sway, can’t they?”

They clasped hands and wrapped their arms around one another’s backs. JJ’s hand rested at the small of Yaz’s back and she drew slow circles on her dress with her index finger. With Yaz’s face resting against her shoulder, they began to sway to the romantic number JJ was memorising every word of, that she might find it again and play it on repeat until every note sank into her bloodstream and she bled nothing but music; but this moment. Forever. 

Calm in Yaz’s hold, JJ sighed. “I’m glad we found our way back to each other.”

“Me too.”

“Dunno what I’d have done if I’d never been able to hold you again,” admitted JJ, breathing Yaz in as she had done a thousand times before. As she hoped to do forevermore. “I haven’t told you this but, when we took our break, I couldn’t even _look_ at anyone else. Couldn’t make myself touch anyone who wasn’t you.”

Yaz pulled her head back and searched JJ. “You — you didn't—”

“Weren’t even tempted.”

Dropping her eyes, Yaz allowed the music to do all the talking for a moment. Eventually, she said, “I kept choosing people who looked like you. Sometimes, I didn’t even realise I were doing it. Just kept happening.” JJ couldn’t name any one of the successive flurry of emotions that broiled in the scorching sun of Yaz’s confession if she tried. “But every single time, all I could ever do was compare them to you. Instead of making me feel better, it just left me feeling… I dunno. Emptier.”

Although it hurt to think of Yaz with other people, the notion that JJ was ever-present in Yaz’s thoughts, even when she was falling into bed with strangers, did offer a finite form of strange comfort. Yaz hardly ever spoke about what she got up to during their months apart. Now, JJ understood why. There was none of the good to know that wasn’t laced inextricably with the bad.

“It’s funny,” Yaz went on, “I thought time away from you would make my feelings go away. All it actually did was make ‘em worse.”

“Worse?”

“Stronger.”

JJ peered down at Yaz and stroked her thumb across the back of her hand, the beginning of a playful smile finding purchase on her lips. “It’s the mac and cheese, isn’t it? Realised you couldn’t live without it.”

Yaz’s shoulders shook with quiet laughter. “It is extremely good mac and cheese,” she agreed. Then, after a comfortable lull, “You wanna know what I missed the most?”

“Mm?”

“I thought it’d be the sex. I thought it’d be kissing you, teasing you, hearing you laugh. Don’t get me wrong, I missed it all, but mostly I missed how gentle you are. It upset me when I lost that, ‘cause I knew nobody would ever treat me like that again. And even if they tried…” Yaz shook her head. “There’s no one like you, Jamie. There never will be.” 

The delicate cadence to Yaz’s voice caused JJ to turn her head. Yaz was glassy eyed. JJ couldn’t have that; couldn’t have her crying today of all days. They stopped dancing and JJ held Yaz by her waist. She realised how monumental it was for someone like Yaz to admit that, now and again, she needed somebody to be tender with her. To be kind. To be soft. Yaz, after all, had become accustomed to portraying herself as tough and untouchable. How lonely, to go so long without another soul touching your own. 

“Yasmin, I’ll always be gentle when you need that from me — even when you think you don’t, or when you pretend you don’t,” vowed JJ. She knocked her forehead against Yaz’s and, once again, that white lie burned a hole at the join of their skin. “I hope you know that I’d never judge you, Yaz. No matter what. Y’can always tell me anythin’.”

If JJ wasn’t mistaken, Yaz looked to be on the cusp of saying something. She took a breath and opened her mouth — and then JJ’s phone buzzed. She ignored it and waited, but then it buzzed again. And again.

“Need to check that?” Yaz asked.

“Nope,” said JJ. _Come on,_ she urged. _Just tell me why you lied._ But then her phone buzzed again and, right on cue, the other theatregoers started to pour in through the door. 

“Go ahead, babe.” Yaz peeled away from her. 

The moment was over. 

JJ checked her phone. Bill, who likely had been helping herself to JJ’s bar all afternoon, had announced in a typo-laden text that everything was ready to go, following a series of nonsensical emojis and an audio message she didn’t even want to listen to.

“Just Jack,” JJ lied, pocketing her phone with a smile. “Ready to go home?”

“Ready.”

* * *

Come evening, JJ and Yaz were in the penthouse elevator. JJ’s stomach lurched with nerves when the lift began its ascent to the top floor. She glanced at Yaz, who was leaning against the rail and scrolling through her phone, and licked her suddenly dry lips. 

“So, um, about what you said before, about how you think there aren’t enough people who’d care about your birthday?”

Yaz looked up and slipped her phone into her clutch. “Yeah?”

“What if, hypothetically, you were wrong about that?” posed JJ. “What if you asked ‘em and they all turned up?”

“I’m not gonna do that, JJ.”

“Right, yeah. ‘Course not. But what if, hypothetically, you didn’t have to? What if someone else did it for you?”

Suspicious, Yaz peeled away from the rail and narrowed her eyes. “What are you getting at?”

The elevator came to a halt. They’d arrived. “No reason,” said JJ. Then, under her breath, “Just wonderin’ how screwed I am.”

“Why would you be—”

The doors slid open, revealing the pitch dark foyer of JJ’s apartment. JJ gestured for Yaz to take the lead with an outstretched arm. Yaz gave her a long look. She stepped out of the lift and into the apartment and, not two seconds after she did so, a chorus of voices had her stumbling backwards into JJ. 

“Surprise!” they all screamed in unison.

The lights and music all came to life at once, revealing a crowd of people waiting for them at the end of the short hallway. Among them were Bill, Jack, Amy, several of Yaz’s friends from university and college — and even her sister. Bill had decided to invite her as an additional surprise for Yaz. Yaz’s colleagues from the club had also turned up in spades. 

Among the crowd, the staff JJ had hired to cater the event milled about with trays carrying flutes and hors d’oeuvres. A buffet table had been set up at the back, black and red balloons littered the apartment, and — strung up along every wall — photographs of Yaz at all ages and in all stages of her life had been left on display for all to see. Her friends had provided those, though JJ made sure to include a few of her own. 

Yaz stood with her lips parted and her hands still half-raised in shock. With a deep breath, JJ came up beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve so many people who’ll turn up for you, Yaz,” she whispered — drowned out by the excited chatter of their guests, “if only you ask.”

When Yaz looked sideways at her, JJ couldn’t be sure it wasn’t fury she saw there, left behind like debris in the wake of the receding tide of surprise on her face. But then, with the crack of a smile, the polluted waters cleared and left only sky-blue shores in their wake. Yaz reached for JJ’s hand and she felt every muscle in her body relax some. 

“Is this okay?” JJ checked. 

Yaz looked out at the throng of people and the corners of her mouth quirked upwards. “I think it is, yeah.” 

“All right, birthday girl!” shouted Bill, making her way over with a tray of shots in hand. “Time for your birthday shot! Can’t remember what any of ‘em are, so it’s a bit of a roulette. JJ, don’t think you’re getting off lightly, either.”

JJ grinned and plucked a shot from the tray just as Yaz did. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

* * *

The first couple of hours ticked by fast. The food and cake was all largely ignored in favour of the varied, limitless alcohol available, which the majority of guests weren’t shy about knocking back. Yaz, JJ noticed, opted to take it easier than a lot of her friends. She hadn’t been much of a drinker since they got back together — which isn’t to say that she didn’t enjoy herself; just that she was aware of her limits and how not to cross them. 

By the time night fell, the music had been turned way up, people’s voices got a far cry louder and, as JJ anticipated, Yaz’s dancer friends had managed to turn the apartment into something of a club. A lot of them had brought plus ones, plus twos, plus threes. JJ didn’t mind. If Yaz was having fun, nothing else mattered. 

After spending some time mingling and joining in on a few drinking games, JJ spotted Sonya — whom she hadn’t been given much of a chance to speak to — sitting at the bar. With Jack. 

He looked to be playing bartender in the absence of the bartender she’d _actually_ hired, who she had a sneaking suspicion had taken off with one of the bustier girls from Yaz’s club who’d been flirting with him all night. Call her paranoid, but something about leaving Yaz’s younger sister alone with her own obnoxious, filterless older brother didn’t quite sit right with her. He wasn’t known for his respectable first impressions. Least of all when drunk.

“Now, I call this one the neuralyzer. Get it? Like the memory wiper from Men in Black?” Jack was saying to Sonya upon JJ’s hasty approach, sliding a horrific cocktail of his own creation across the bar towards her. “It tastes awful in the best kinda way. Go ahead and—”

“Hiya, Yaz’s sister!” JJ interjected.

When Sonya swivelled around in her stool, JJ enveloped her in an overly familiar hug she clearly wasn’t expecting and shot daggers at Jack over her shoulder. She gestured for him to remove the cocktail from Sonya’s immediate vicinity. With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Jack picked up the cocktail and took a sip. Only then did JJ release Sonya, who awkwardly hugged her back but stiffened when it lasted a beat too long. 

“Uh, hi,” said Sonya. Her amused frown reminded her so much of Yaz that it toed the line of uncanny. “You do know my name’s Sonya, right?”

“‘Course I do! Excellent name, Sonya. Right up there with Yasmin. Who, by the way, I am very fond of. Awesome human, she is. Not to imply that I’m not also human. That’d be ridiculous, wouldn’t it? I just meant—”

“Is she always like this?” Sonya asked Jack, mercifully bringing JJ’s nervous rambling to a screeching halt. 

“Pretty much, yeah.”

JJ looked between them, lost. “Like what?”

“So, what are your intentions with my sister, JJ?” asked Sonya, leaning forwards on her stool and steepling her hands. Her narrow eyes and careful regard put JJ on edge. 

Eyes widening, JJ stammered for a response. “Oh, I — uh — well, I promise I only have the best of—”

“You got a criminal record?”

“No!” scoffed JJ, raising her hands as if to attest to her harmlessness. “I mean, okay, I had a couple of run ins in my youth, but that’s in the past. And those records are all sealed, so. Y’know. It’s a non issue, really.”

Sonya started blankly back at her. “Okay, _I_ was only joking, but now I can’t tell if you are or not.”

Behind Sonya, Jack mimed zipping his lips together and tossing away the key. Realising her faux pas, JJ swallowed through the tightness in her throat and shot Sonya an awkward smile. “Totes joking. Duh.”

“Smooth,” Jack mouthed silently.

“Um, glad you made it today, though!” said JJ, hoping to push through her social ineptitude and make a better impression upon the first member of Yaz’s family she’d yet to meet. Perhaps it wasn’t Jack she needed to be worrying about. “Seriously. I know Yaz was well plea—” Gesticulating as freely as ever, JJ made the mistake of extending her arms and backhanding an open bottle of tequila that had been left on the counter. She knocked it straight over and sent the contents sloshing off the side of the bar. Jack jumped out of its way. 

“Jesus, Jamie!” he chided, righting the bottle and wiping the spirit from his hand with a napkin. “Relax, would you?”

Sonya snorted. “You are _not_ what I expected.”

“How so?” asked JJ.

“Dunno. Kinda thought the woman who brought Yaz out of hiding must have been at least a little bit suave.” 

“Wh — oh, I can be suave, Sonya. Believe me.” In an effort to exemplify her point, JJ leaned casually against the bar. Her arm landed right in the puddle of tequila. She sprang back and shook her arm wildly, stopping to afford Sonya an apologetic grimace once she realised the comedy of errors she was making. This could be going better. 

“Next James Dean, I reckon,” mumbled Sonya. She glanced over to Yaz. Across the room, she and Amy were playing beer pong on the buffet table. Bill was pretending to play referee, which mostly involved topping up both their drinks when they weren’t paying attention. “Still, you must be doing summat right. She looks good.” Sonya eyed JJ. “Plus, I’ve never known Yaz to want to go exclusive before.”

The latter comment gave JJ pause. She took up residence on the stool beside Sonya. “Um, d’you think — I mean, you know her best. D’you think she’s capable of it? Of choosing just one person?”

Sonya frowned. “Why do you ask?”

Not wanting to bad mouth Yaz to her sister (or to anyone, for that matter), JJ shook her head. “No reason.”

“Oh, come on,” sighed Sonya. “Spill. What’s she done now?”

“Nothin’. It’s just…” JJ locked her hands together on top of the counter, putting her back to Yaz. “She lied about where she was earlier. And we’ve never actually had the conversation, y’know? Called ourselves exclusive. We haven’t labelled it.”

“Well, did you ask her about the lie?”

“It’s her birthday,” JJ said by way of answer.

Jack, who’d clearly been indulging in one too many neuralyzers, suddenly sprang up from behind the bar with a fresh bottle of vodka to hand and reminded them both he was there. “If you ask me—”

“Nobody did,” asserted JJ.

“If you ask me,” Jack pressed on, unfazed, “Yaz is a lot of things—”

Sonya sent him a look. “Watch it mate.”

“But she’s not a cheater!” Jack set his bottle down and folded his arms atop the bar, keeping a safe distance from the mess JJ had made. “I had my reservations at the beginning, I’ll admit. Before I got a chance to know her, I thought she was probably rinsing you. No offence, Sonya. But, Jamie, _she’s_ the one that called things off. She did that for you, so you could get your head right. There wasn’t anything in it for her. She lost you. She lost all your money and your generosity. She even lost me, which you know would’ve been the hardest hit.” Neither JJ nor Sonya laughed at Jack’s joke, so he rolled his eyes and ploughed on. “My point is, if she didn’t care about you, she wouldn’t have left you. Which I realise doesn’t make much sense when you put it like that. I think I’m too drunk for this conversation.”

“Maybe you should make a coffee, mate,” advised JJ.

“Espresso martini! Excellent idea.”

“JJ, I don’t really know the full story,” admitted Sonya, as she and JJ both left Jack to steep his brain in lethal quantities of mixed alcohol, “but I do know my sister. All right, she comes across as a bit cold sometimes, but she also knows what it’s like to hurt. She wouldn’t put that on someone else. She’s a good person — whether she likes to brag about it or not.”

“I know she is,” said JJ.

“But?”

“But it wouldn’t technically be cheating if we’ve never defined ourselves, would it? And she always used to hammer the fact that she’d never want a proper relationship. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe I forced it on her.”

The more JJ thought about it, the more all those previous warning signs she’d once glossed over lit up like constellations in a desert sky. 

_I thought it was all just make believe? It is._

_Yaz breaks hearts for a living. She’s bloody good at it. Can’t see her changing her ways any time soon._

And, the worst of them by far, _I don’t do that. And I definitely can’t do it with you._

“Maybe you just need to grow a pair and talk to her, mate. Find out what’s going on up there,” suggested Sonya, tapping her temple with her fingertip. “Sitting around moping about it ain’t gonna do anything.”

JJ looked over her shoulder and sought Yaz out with her eyes. Some of her friends had dragged her onto the makeshift dance floor they’d made in the living room. She was laughing. The last thing JJ wanted to do was ruin her fun.

Instead, she excused herself from her conversation with Sonya and retreated to the bathroom, where she proceeded to splash her face with cold water and stare her reflection down for an age. As drunk people do. 

As sad people do. 

Music and laughter and bellowed conversation bled through the gaps in the door. Suddenly, JJ wasn’t in much of a party mood. She listed towards the bathtub, left her jacket on the rail, and climbed in with her knees pulled up to her chest. JJ stared out through the window at the city below, right past her own pathetic, translucent reflection.

She only realised she’d forgotten to lock the door when it opened ten minutes later. Yaz walked in with a bottle of champagne to hand. When she saw JJ sitting there, her face fell. 

“Jamie?”

“Hiya, ladybird. Sorry, I um — I’ll be right out.”

Yaz closed the door. She crossed the room and, without saying a word, climbed into the tub and sat opposite JJ. She offered her the bottle. With a feeble smile, JJ accepted and took a healthy swig. As it fizzed down her throat, she picked at the corner of the label, feeling foolish and embarrassed. She’d gone to such pains to throw Yaz the perfect party, only to desert it for a pity party of her own. 

“Is it the noise?” asked Yaz. “We can tell everyone to do one if—”

“No, no. Please don’t. It’s not that.”

“Okay.” Yaz settled against the back of the tub. “Well, are you gonna tell me why you’re hiding in the bath instead of dancing with me? I were looking everywhere for you.”

JJ dropped her head. “Sorry.”

“Well?”

After a lengthy delay, JJ slugged back another mouthful of champagne and waited for it to settle before speaking. “You lied to me before. You said you were with Bill when you weren’t.” The concerned frown on Yaz’s face yielded to realisation. Her shoulders went lax and she turned her head towards the window. “Yaz, if you were with someone else—”

“That’s not it,” Yaz refuted sharply. She levelled JJ with an expression of absolute sincerity. “I promise.”

“Then where were you? Why’d you lie?”

Yaz held her hand out for the champagne and JJ handed it over. She slugged some back and dropped her eyes to her lap, rolling the stem of the bottle between her palms. “I, um — I was seeing someone, but not like that.” With a sigh, she lifted her eyes to meet JJ’s. “It was a professional, babe. Someone who I’m hoping can help me with…” Yaz gestured broadly at herself, as though that was all the explanation necessary. 

It took a moment, in her inebriated state, for JJ to process Yaz’s confession. “You’re seeing a therapist?”

“I’ve been low for a long time, JJ. It gets in the way of every single one of my relationships. I really don’t want it to get in the way of this one. I’m tryna be better for you, and I realised I can’t do that on my own. Been doing it alone my whole life, and look where that got me.”

JJ’s shock warred with relief for sovereignty. All day she’d been worried sick that Yaz was running from their relationship _again._ In reality, she’d been trying to quietly strengthen it; working behind the scenes to reinforce the bedrock upon which they were building their future. Every time JJ convinced herself she couldn’t hold Yaz in any higher regard, every time she was sure her affection had already reached maximum capacity, Yaz went and proved her wrong. 

JJ put her hand on Yaz’s calf. “I wish you’d told me, Yaz. Why didn’t you?”

Yaz shrugged. “It’s not exactly easy to bring up. ‘By the way, JJ, you know ‘cause I’m so messed up on a fundamental level? Well, now I see someone once a week to talk about it’.”

“You’re not messed up,” frowned JJ. “You’re a human being living in a world that isn’t always kind to us. Take it from me, Yasmin, sometimes our brains can’t take it. They glitch. When I glitch, I get scared. When you glitch, you get sad and you lock yourself away.”

“So why do my glitches last months? Years?”

“‘Cause you’ve never tried to fix them. Not ‘til now. Now you’re trying, and that’s a huge deal! You don’t have to feel ashamed. If anything, you should be proud. It takes a lot to ask for help. I know I never managed it.” JJ took the bottle from Yaz and set it down on the step next to the tub, clasping one of Yaz’s hands in both her own. “I’m so sorry I assumed the worst, Yaz, but I’m glad you told me. Really.”

“I’ve given you every reason to assume the worst, babe,” acknowledged Yaz. “That’s on me.” 

“Nah, give over. I’m sure your therapist wouldn’t like to hear you talk yourself down like that, eh?” teased JJ. 

“Maybe not, but she’d defo love to hear me fessing up to my mistakes.” Yaz leaned forwards and turned her palms up to hold JJ’s hands. “I’ve been distant with you lately, I know, and all you ever do is try to close all the gaps I keep making. I’m sorry, JJ. It’s just hard for me. There’s always a small part of me that’s waiting for it all to go wrong, but that’s not fair on you.” 

JJ reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind Yaz’s ear. “You still want this, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, babe.”

“Then we’ll get there. I know we will,” insisted JJ with unswerving confidence. “We’re JJ and Yaz. We’re Jasmin. We can do anythin’ we want, and nothin’ in the whole universe can stop us.”

Yaz chuckled. “I bloody hate that name.”

“I bloody love you, Yaz.”

For a weighted beat, they both sat and drank one another in. Their eyes might well have been open windows for how deep and true they understood each other for the duration of that extended moment. The windows slammed shut and two mouths opened in their place when Yaz grabbed the collar of JJ’s shirt and yanked her in for a kiss. 

It was one of those drunken kisses in which teeth knock together and lips miss the mark a couple of times, but it wasn’t long before they found their rhythm and JJ felt two sure hands pushing her onto her back. 

She thanked that the generous depth and width of her tub allowed Yaz the freedom to climb on top of her. Yaz kissed JJ’s neck with drunken fervor, one hand knotted in her hair and the other roaming her body clumsily, while JJ slipped a hand up Yaz’s dress and cupped her from behind. Yaz nipped at her throat in response.

When Yaz untucked JJ’s shirts and splayed her fingers across her stomach, JJ blindly felt for something to brace herself with. Had she been a little less tipsy, she might not have settled on the faucet lever positioned at the side of the tub. A jet of freezing cold water ejected from the tap. They both started violently.

“ _Shit_!”

“Jamie!” Yaz yanked the lever back up, but not before the water had soaked through JJ’s sleeve, part of her trousers, and one of her shoes. Being on top, Yaz got off lightly. She regarded the wet hem of her dress and looked to JJ with a hybrid of irritation and amusement behind her eyes. “Keep still.”

“Yes, ma’am,” nodded JJ. “Still as a statue, me. Won’t move a—”

Yaz shut her up with a kiss. Crooning into it, JJ held firm onto Yaz’s hips to avoid another unwarranted shower. She heard rather than felt her belt buckle come undone, followed by her zipper. JJ ignored the dampness of her clothes in favour of the damp between her legs, inching a hand once more up the back of Yaz’s dress. She trailed a fingertip across the lace of her underwear and felt her lips twitch. 

“Are you wearin’ the ones I sent?” JJ panted.

Yaz dusted her lips across JJ’s jaw. “Mhm,” she purred. “Wanna see? I know how much it turns you on.”

“Please.”

“Go ahead.”

JJ hooked a finger under the hem of Yaz’s skirt and lifted it to steal a glance. As promised, there they were — one half of a black two piece, floral and lacy and with just enough gaps in the delicate fabric to kickstart JJ’s rapid heart, like yanking on the cord of a chainsaw. It buzzed to life; its razorlike teeth wanted nothing more than to tear through both the brand new dress and its matching undergarments. The necklace, she could keep on. JJ’s fingers twitched with want. Apparently, Yaz had other ideas. 

“That’s enough looking,” she announced, peeling JJ’s hands away from her dress and pinning them both to the porcelain. 

“But—”

“It’s my birthday, isn’t it?” goaded Yaz with a provocative edge to her low, drawn out tone. She cupped JJ’s jaw with one hand and slipped the other into her trousers. “Ask me what I want.”

“Wh — what do you want?” stuttered JJ, fingers curling and brow creasing when Yaz slid her fingers across the fabric of her boxers.

Yaz ducked her head to whisper in JJ’s ear. “I want you to be a good girl,” she murmured, pressing her fingers flat against JJ and eliciting an uneven sigh, “and come for me. Think you can manage that, babe?”

“A — absolutely,” insisted JJ, faltering when Yaz rubbed her fingers slowly against the cotton separating skin from silken heat. “Happy to oblige.”

“Good.”

In the next instant, Yaz dipped her hand beneath the waistband of JJ’s boxers and sank a finger inside her. Groaning, JJ thudded her head against the floor of the tub and pulled Yaz in for another kiss. In no time, Yaz began to gain momentum between her legs. JJ couldn’t help but purr around her tongue — a purr that became a gasp once Yaz nestled a second finger inside her and crooked her fingers. 

In JJ’s left hand she had a handful of Yaz’s backside. Urging for something to do with her right, she groped one of Yaz’s breasts through her dress with a heavier hand than she’d hoped for. 

“Fuck, I can’t wait to get you out of this thing,” mumbled JJ. 

“Yeah?” Yaz increased both the pace and reach of her fingers and JJ bit back a moan. “What you gonna do to me, JJ?”

Dazed with mounting pleasure, body shaking the whole tub with every jolt, JJ grappled with her failing lucidity for a satisfactory answer. “Anythin’ you tell me to, Yaz,” she landed on. “Anythin’. Many times over.”

It must have been the right thing to say because, the second the words left JJ’s lips, Yaz granted a merciful pressure to the swollen nexus of her aching, pulsing nerves. JJ moaned. Her muscles jumped at the sudden contact and she began to climb higher than the penthouse of the skyscraper, straight for the moon and the stars and whatever lay beyond it all. 

Yaz sank her teeth into JJ’s throat. 

Dizzy on her favourite cocktail of pain and pleasure, JJ raked her short nails across Yaz’s back, unintentionally incentivising her to touch JJ with firmer, tighter, harsher dedication. She fucked JJ like all she’d ever dreamed of was making her come. Not impatient, but devoted. Driven.

“You feel so good, babe,” Yaz praised in a near-growl, hot against her ear. “You feel amazing. You’ve been so good today, haven’t you?”

“Fuck, Yaz,” JJ whined. Yaz’s words set her skin ablaze and encouraged further arousal to bubble in her gut and rush to meet Yaz’s waiting fingers. Yaz spread JJ all over herself. The sensation unbalanced her so much she could only thank the heavens that she was already flat on her back. 

Yaz ran her tongue up JJ’s neck, across the indents her teeth left behind, and then ventured towards her ear. JJ wove a hand through Yaz’s hair when she began to nibble on her earlobe, whimpering at the feel of her clever, nimble fingers and the maddening ease with which they worked her up to her apotheosis every single time. 

“Please,” gasped JJ. “I think I’m gonna—”

Yaz slowed her fingers right down and JJ whined, evoking a breath of laughter from Yaz. “You know the drill, babe.”

When JJ peered up at Yaz through the errant strands of blonde hair stuck to her face, the softness she discovered in her heady eyes blew her away; carried her far out across the twinkling horizon on a current of pure adoration. This moment wasn’t about control. Yaz liked to hear how much JJ wanted her and JJ liked to say it. 

“Please, Yaz.” She clutched at her dress and gave her a brief kiss on the mouth. “Please, I love you so much. I’ll do anything for you.” Another lightning-quick peck. “Let me come for you, Yaz. Let me make you happy. Let me be good for you. It’s all I want.” JJ stole a third kiss from Yaz’s lips. “I love you. Please.”

Stroking JJ’s cheek with the thumb of her free hand, Yaz smiled balmily down at her. “One more time.”

JJ cupped Yaz’s face, pressed a long, chaste kiss to her sticky-sweet, vermillion lips, and mumbled a wholehearted, “I love you,” against them. 

Just like that, Yaz pushed JJ’s head back down with her forehead and resumed her brutal pace between her thighs. JJ made a strained sound, legs bent and fingers digging into Yaz’s shoulders. Breathless and ascending, all she could think to do was mutter her confession over and over and over again. _I love you, I love you, I love you._ It drove Yaz to an extreme velocity. JJ was seconds from her head-on collision with rapture — when the door burst open. 

They heard someone stagger in; heard the door swing shut behind them. That’s when Jack started to belt out the chorus to a song JJ couldn’t even make out through his slurring. Besides, she was too far gone. There was no stopping what was coming. Yaz must have seen it on her face. Because they were hidden by the depth of the tub — rather than relent — Yaz smothered JJ’s mouth with her palm, remained vigilant inside her boxers, and watched her face unfurl as she came. 

JJ couldn’t stop herself from slamming her hand against the side of the bath. Her hips lurched and she swallowed back a moan, eyes screwed shut and a trembling sigh pouring out of her mouth and landing warm on Yaz’s palm. 

Fortunately, over the sound of Jack’s wildly off-key performance, they went unheard. 

By the time her body stopped convulsing with a series of tremulous waves, JJ’s chest was heaving and Yaz was smirking. She was still covering JJ’s mouth; still had a hand inside her trousers. They waited for Jack to zip it up, wash his hands, no doubt check himself out in the mirror, and then stumble back out of the room. Faces centimetres apart and separated only by Yaz’s hand, Yaz and JJ locked eyes. They burst into laughter. 

Yaz peeled her hand away and replaced it with her smiling mouth, engaging JJ in a kiss laced with hilarity and closeness. The hilarity was soon to make itself scarce. When they finally tore away from one another’s mouths, their lips were bright red and JJ was eyeing Yaz’s body with a distinct dearth of humour. 

“I wanna pay you back so bad,” she mewled. 

“Later, babe,” vowed Yaz, licking the pad of her thumb and wiping a smudge of lipstick from JJ’s mouth. “Promise.”

JJ caught her hand before she could pull it away and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Don’t mind if I hold you to that, Yasmin.”

* * *

Daybreak was but an hour or two away. 

Save for Yaz, Bill, Amy, Sonya, and Jack, everybody else had since vacated JJ’s apartment. Presently, they all sat on the sheltered, outdoor terrace on sofas and chairs around the fire pit. Heaters positioned at regular intervals around their seats also worked to keep the cold at bay, though the air was as still as the moon suspended in the ink-dark sky.

The fire glow clung to faces and hair and clothes as they made subdued, merry conversation by its dancing light — each of them still drunk but winding down with the night. 

JJ and Yaz were cuddled up together beneath a shared blanket on the corner of the outdoor sofa. Yaz’s head was resting on JJ’s shoulder, and JJ was applying paramount focus on not moving so much as a muscle, that Yaz wouldn’t deem her an unworthy pillow and leave her shoulder cold and empty.

At some point, JJ felt a tug on her sleeve and looked down to find Yaz discreetly pointing across the terrace. JJ followed her finger to find that, sharing the sofa on the opposite side of the fire pit, Bill and Amy looked to be getting remarkably snug. From a short distance, it looked like Bill was flirting with her. Trying to, anyway. Arm slung across the back of the sofa behind Amy, Bill leaned in close to whisper something the others couldn’t hear. Amy rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

JJ and Yaz shared a look.

“Didn’t see that one coming,” admitted Yaz.

“Amy’d eat her alive,” JJ reckoned, grinning to think of Bill pulling out all the stops in an effort to so much as keep up with Amy.

“Right?” laughed Yaz. She squeezed JJ’s hip and JJ felt warm all over, despite the winter chill. “I’d love to see it though. ‘Bout time Bill met her match.”

JJ was about to voice her agreement when Jack hopped off the swinging chair he’d been lounging on and surged to his feet, the bottle of whiskey in his hand sloshing as he extended his arms and tried to maintain balance. When he succeeded, he straightened with a satisfied nod of his head. “Right!” he shouted, calling the attention of all present. “I think it’s time for a toast!”

“Oh, please don’t,” pleaded Yaz, shrinking deeper into JJ’s side.

“Oh, please do,” Sonya smirked from her lounge chair. 

“No, seriously Jack—”

“New rule: no talking unless you have the bottle!” He looked at everybody in turn to make sure they were all obliging his request and then, at last, his foggy gaze landed on Yaz. “Excellent. Now, Yaz, I know you and I didn’t bond as well as we could have at the start. A lot of that’s on me. I have my reservations about anyone who comes into JJ’s life. She’s my kid sister, you know?”

“Oh, for the love of…” JJ swigged the water Yaz had suggested she switch to and cursed that it wasn’t something stronger. Like poison. Under the blanket, Yaz took her hand. 

Jack winked at JJ. “That said,” he pressed on, staggering a little too close to the fire for JJ’s liking, “I’ve never known JJ to feel for anyone the way she feels for you. Which is saying a lot, really, ‘cause she’s got the biggest heart I’ve ever seen.”

“Jack, for the love of god, please step away from the open flames,” Amy interrupted when Jack swung his arm just so and narrowly avoided catching his sleeve in the fire. 

“I’m keeping an eye on them!” protested Jack, throwing his hands up. “And you don’t have the bottle, last time I checked, Ginger Spice.”

“Yeah, well, your blood alcohol level’s at about ninety percent right now. If you don’t move your arse, you’re gonna go up in flames — _Captain America.”_ Amy rose to her feet. The moment she did, Jack was intimidated into compliance. With an exaggerated sigh, he held up a palm and backed away from the fire. 

“Fine, fine. There. Are we good now? Can I finish my moving speech?”

“Maybe you should save it for the wedding,” mumbled Bill.

“Oi,” said Yaz.

JJ tilted her head. “I mean…” At Yaz’s outright petrified expression, she snorted and ruffled her hair — something she’d never have gotten away with were they sober. “Relax, ladybird. I’m joking. Mostly. Like, forty percent joking. Thirty percent?”

Jack pointed the neck of the bottle at Yaz and JJ. “Okay, you guys are ruining my big moment.”

“Thought this was about me?” Yaz teased.

“I — be quiet, you. Where the hell was I?” 

“Big heart,” Sonya piped up, sending Yaz a faux-sweet smile when she glared at her for encouraging him. 

“Right! She has a big heart,” remembered Jack. “And since the two of you got together, she’s been the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time. So I wanna thank you for making her smile, and I wanna thank you for sticking by her. But, you know, if you ever hurt her again then I’m gonna have to—”

“My turn!” Bill darted for Jack and tried to take the designated speaking bottle, but Jack held her back with a hand on her forehead. 

“Wait, one more thing!” After managing to successfully wrestle away from Bill, Jack smoothed out his shirt and looked at Yaz. The lightheartedness was suddenly absent from his face. “Joking aside, welcome to the family, Yaz. Take care of her and we’ll always take care of you. Deal?”

JJ dared only look at Yaz out of the corner of her eye. But, if she wasn’t mistaken, Yaz was smiling. “Deal.”

Jack beamed at her. “Happy birthday, kiddo.”

Whilst Jack handed the bottle to Bill and returned to his seat, JJ pulled Yaz a smidgeon closer to her and Yaz nestled comfortably against her side. After checking with Amy — the newly appointed, perpetually overworked mother of the group — that she was standing a safe enough distance from the fire, Bill cleared her throat.

“Here we go,” murmured Yaz under her breath. 

“Yaz, Yaz, Yaz — where do I even begin?”

“With the ending?”

“Nah, how about the beginning?” Bill turned to the group like she was a standup act on stage. “I met Yaz when we were about eighteen through some mutual friends at a party. Like all the best friendships, ours started when I tried to hit on her.” Both Bill and Yaz shared a laugh at the memory and Bill cast a wink her way. “I reckon throwing up on her shoes probably didn’t do me many favours in that department, but it worked out for the best in the end. All night, she’d been that intimidating girl at the party who just kinda stood there looking a little bit sexy and a little bit scary. But, when I got myself in a state, she was the only one who cared enough to look after me and make sure I got home safe. Yes, Yaz, you’re a badass bitch, and you’re tough as nails, and you’ve got a body like a— 

JJ coughed pointedly and Bill grinned. “You gonna be introducing us to a point any time soon, Bill?” She knew most of this story, anyway. JJ had assumed she and Yaz met at the club but, in actual fact, Bill was the one to get her a job there when she was in dire need of the money. They’d been friends a while before that. 

“The point, my dear JJ, is that through it all, I think we all know what a big softie Yaz really is.”

“I am _not_ soft,” rebuked Yaz.

Sonya, from the other end of the sofa, made a face. “You’re so soft.”

“Come over here and say that.”

“Ladies! Who has the bottle?” interceded Bill with a mock-disappointed shake of her head. “As I was saying. You hide it well — I think we all can attest to that — but you’ve got a heart of gold, mate. And you don’t always hear it when people say it, but you deserve all the happiness in the world.”

Yaz looked embarrassed to be hearing her best friend, usually so averse to serious topics of conversation, address her with total frankness. And she wasn’t done there.

“Anyone can see you’ve been doing better lately,” Bill continued. “I mean, this is the first birthday you’ve celebrated in years. If I’d thrown you a surprise party this time last year you’d probably have stabbed me through the eye with your stilettos, which would have hurt no less just because they aren’t the Louboutins you trot about in now. But that’s not the only thing that’s changed, is it? I mean, look around, mate!” Arms wide, Bill gestured at their surroundings and the people populating them. “All these people want you to be happy. We all care about you. And you know what? The lot of them could do one tomorrow and you’d still have me. You’re my best mate, and I love you, and I’m glad things are finally looking up for you.”

In the handful of seconds following Bill’s toast, only the crackle of flames made a noise out on that terrace. If the way her throat bobbed was anything to go by, Yaz was visibly touched. But, just like Bill said, her heart of gold existed behind several layers of steel and concrete. 

“When did you become such a sap?” Yaz cracked. To JJ, it sounded like she was saying _I love you, too._

“Ah, come here, you big softie!” Bill pulled Yaz off the sofa for a hug and Yaz hugged her back, muttering a quiet thanks into her ear. When they let go, Bill gave Yaz the slightest nod — communicating in the way that only the closest of friends do — and then swivelled around. “Who’s next then? Pond?”

“Uh, sure.” Amy got to her feet and took the bottle from Bill. The way Bill’s fingers lingered over Amy’s for a moment longer than necessary was not lost on JJ. “Okay, I’ll keep this short and sweet, since we’ve only met a few times. All I’ll say is that, from the first day I was reunited with JJ — bear in mind, we had two whole decades’ worth of life to catch up on — all she ever wanted to talk about was you, Yaz. Seriously. It was pretty bloody annoying.”

“Here, here,” Jack chimed in. 

JJ tutted. “All right, easy.”

“Granted, you had your issues then. Both of you. In fact, the first time I met Yaz, she tried to run away. You were such a bastard flight risk, I had to damn near tie you to the bed just to make sure you didn’t leave.” 

“Kinky,” joked Bill.

“Shut up, Bill,” almost everyone said in unison. Except Yaz, who was fiddling with the blanket guiltily. To reassure her that it was okay, that the past was the past, JJ kissed the side of her head. She kept her hand in Yaz’s hair, gently stroking it with her fingertips, and they exchanged a whisper of a smile. 

“But now look at you,” said Amy, extending her hand towards JJ and Yaz. “Couldn’t pry the pair of you apart with a crowbar. From what I can see, you’ve both come a long way, and it’s great to see the two of you happy together. Ever need me on hand to block all the exits again, I’m a phone call away.”

Yaz laughed. “Thanks, Amy.”

“Happy birthday, Yaz.” Amy tipped some of the whiskey into her mouth and looked around. “Does the sister want to speak?”

“If I must,” grumbled Sonya, rising from the sofa and taking the bottle.

“Bloody hell,” laughed Yaz. “You _must_ be drunk.”

“Not drunk enough, trust me.” Sonya twisted the bottle in her hands and licked her lips. “Right. Well, I’ll be honest, I were beyond surprised when Bill invited me to a surprise party for you, Yaz. I mean, the look on your face when you walked in, I thought you were gonna deck someone. Didn’t for one second expect you to take it as well as you did. But I’ve spent all night around your mates, your bird—” she nodded at JJ and JJ stuck her thumb up, earning her a fond shake of Sonya’s head— “and it makes sense now. Why you’ve changed. I’m not as worried as I was before ‘cause I can see that you’re not alone out here. I’ll be able to go home and tell mum and dad you’re doing better and, this time, it won’t be a lie. So I guess I’m, like, proud of you. Or whatever.”

“Profound,” quipped Yaz.

Sonya rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well. Just don’t go leaving me behind again, you idiot. Don’t go leaving the world behind. Kinda like having you in it.”

Everybody around the fire muttered or nodded their agreement. Hidden from view by the throw, Yaz gripped JJ’s hand a little tighter and JJ gave a squeeze right back. Yaz was keeping it together — but only just.

“Happy birthday, Yaz,” Sonya finished. “Really.”

“Come here,” said Yaz, voice tight. Somewhat reluctant, Sonya approached and allowed Yaz to pull her down onto the sofa on the other side of her. Yaz put her arm around her. “Thanks for coming, Son.”

Sonya shrugged airily. “I never say no to a party, Yaz,” she ribbed. Yaz scoffed and shoved her shoulder. Leaning forwards, Sonya reached past Yaz and extended the bottle towards JJ. “Think it’s your turn, mate. Try not to spill it, yeah?”

Ignoring the inquisitive look Yaz sent her way, JJ sheepishly took the bottle and got to her feet. She took the stage at the head of the group and pulled on her already loose collar, unequipped as she felt for an impromptu speech. Her gaze flickered over Yaz, whose successive wink emboldened her some. She took a breath. 

“So, um, before we got here today, Yaz expressed to me that she didn’t like to celebrate her birthday because she didn’t feel there was much worth celebrating. But — as I’ve told you before, Yasmin — if y’look around, you’ll never run out of reasons to celebrate. You’ve a family who loves you,” said JJ, gesturing towards Sonya with the bottle, “and you’ve now got another soft of family who loves you too. Maybe we’re a bit of an odd bunch—”

“Speak for yourself,” cracked Bill.

“ — but the important thing is that we show up when you need us to. I’ll always show up when you need me to, ladybird. No matter what. That’s a promise I don’t ever have to worry about breaking.” JJ was looking at Yaz like she was the sole member of her audience. “I don’t have to tell you how in love with you I am; I think that’s pretty obvious to everyone here. But I’ll never get tired of reminding you. I’ll never get tired of proving it. And, on the days when you need me to prove it a little harder, all you ever have to do is ask.”

Yaz’s jaw was set but, through the fire glinting in her fathomless black eyes, JJ thought she could pick out a few webbing fissures in her composed facade. 

“We’ve been through a lot in the time we’ve known one another, but the best part of it, for me, has been watchin’ you grow. Every day, I’m blessed to get to know brand new parts of you, and I adore every single one of ‘em. Thanks for showing ‘em to me, Yaz, and know that I’ll always take care of all of you — the bits you love and the bits you hate — for as long as you allow me to.” It was JJ’s turn to wink at Yaz, whose jaw was not quite so set any longer. JJ raised her botte. “So, happy birthday to the woman I love. Here’s to celebrating many, many more together.”

“Cheers to that,” seconded Jack.

Everybody lifted their glasses, or else found the nearest one, and lifted them into the air. Yaz was still blinking away her tears when she caught JJ’s eye over the leaping flames and the clinking glasses. She smiled at JJ. JJ smiled back. For that split second, they were alone on the balcony. In the universe. It was just the two of them — smiling at one another. That was all there was. 

If that was all there was for the rest of time, JJ would be pretty okay with that. 

“Now,” she said, setting down her bottle and clapping her hands together once everyone had taken their commemorative sips, “everyone needs to leave! I promised Yaz some seriously good birthday sex.”

Sonya made a retching sound. 

Yaz stifled a laugh. “Babe.”

“Whoops,” JJ winced. “Sorry, Sonya.”

“She’s right, though. You lot need to do one,” agreed Yaz, apparently as keen for some alone time as JJ was. 

“So much for the touching moment,” remarked Bill. 

Jack, already pulling up Uber on his phone, sniggered quietly. “Something tells me there’ll be lots of touching moments when we leave.”

“God, someone get me out of here,” cringed Sonya. 

“You can crash on my couch, mate,” Bill offered. She turned to Amy and wriggled her eyebrows. “You know, my bed’s pretty spacious, if you wanted to top and tail.”

“Who’s the top in this scenario?” asked Yaz.

“Me,” Amy and Bill both said in unison. 

Amy regarded Bill with incredulity. “Right. Thanks for the offer — very tempting — but my cab’s already on its way.”

“Shame,” rued Bill, kissing her teeth. “Maybe next time, babe.”

“In your dreams, kid.”

“I’m sure you will be.”

Once JJ had finished seeing the last of them out, she returned to the apartment to find Yaz staring out of the window. JJ came to a stop beside her and they both looked out at the city. One thing JJ had always hated about living in the city was the lack of stars. Easily substituted when she stole a subtle glance at Yaz. Or maybe not so subtle. Yaz caught her in the act and her lips stretched into a warm smile. 

“Okay?” asked JJ.

Yaz tugged on JJ’s hand and leaned in to give her a fleeting, tender kiss, which dissolved into a tight hug. “Thanks for this, Jamie,” she mumbled into JJ’s hair. “It was really nice.”

“You’re never as alone as you think you are, Yasmin. Remember that.”

“Don’t think you’d let me forget it if I tried.”

“Correct!” JJ confirmed cheerily. They pulled away, but not far. JJ locked her hands together behind Yaz’s back. “Just like I’m not gonna let you forget the promise y’made in the tub earlier. Do me a favour and pick a number between one and ten.”

Yaz domed a brow. “Um. One?”

“A bit higher.”

“You just told me to…” Yaz sighed. “Okay, five.”

With a whopping grin, JJ swept Yaz off her feet and carried her towards the bed. “Settle in for a long night, Yaz — er, morning? What time even _is_ it? I should really close the blinds.”

“Wait, what did I just choose?” asked Yaz, arms draped over JJ’s shoulders. 

“What d’you think?”

“Five times? Really?”

“You don’t think I can do it?”

“I think you’re as drunk as I am.”

“I’m drunk, you’re gorgeous, and I’m not lettin’ you leave this bed ‘til I give you the greatest birthday sex you’ve ever had.”

“Well, you’ve got five shots.”

“Better make ‘em all count.”

* * *

JJ woke, sometime after noon, with Yaz’s body melded against her own. Warm skin on warm skin, Yaz’s even breaths tickling her neck; her slender arms the only enclosed space JJ never wanted to escape from. 

Alas.

Delicately peeling out of Yaz’s slumberous embrace, JJ slipped into a shirt and boxers and crept silently towards the kitchen. Soundless as she could manage, JJ set about preparing a special, post-birthday, post-staggeringly-phenomenal-all-night-sex breakfast. Lunch. Brunch? 

She couldn’t help but keep staring at the cardboard tube sitting on the counter, wrapped in a red bow, that she’d dug out from its hiding place under the sink. So entangled with nerves was she, she zoned out entirely whilst making the chocolate chip pancakes and ended up burning most of them. 

Fortunately, the overhead extractor fans prevented the fire alarm from going off. Once she’d plated up the pancakes, JJ figured she could mask the burntness with a little syrup. She figured wrong. JJ turned the syrup bottle upside down, the lid popped off, and half the container plopped straight onto the dish. She swore and yanked the bottle away just as Yaz walked in with a yawn, wearing one of JJ’s hoodies and a pair of Calvins. JJ spotted the chain of her new necklace around her neck. She’d yet to take it off. 

“Why does it smell like something’s on fire?” she asked, surveying the mess JJ had made of the kitchen. 

Turning her back on Yaz, JJ scrambled for something to cover up her failed attempt at romance with. “Um, no reason. Maybe you should wait in the—”

Yaz wrapped her arms around JJ from behind. Chin resting on her shoulder, she peered down at the counter and at the abomination perched on the plate. “What’s this?”

JJ puffed out her cheeks. “Well, I _tried_ to make you breakfast. Didn’t exactly go accordin’ to plan.”

When Yaz laughed, JJ felt it in her own ribs. It made her dumb and dizzy. After a beat, Yaz detached from JJ and spun the plate around, frowning down at her creation. “What does it…” She tilted her head to better make it out — because JJ hadn’t just made pancakes. No, she made pancakes that spelled out, “Be mine?” Yaz frowned at JJ. 

Wiping her hands on a rag, JJ leaned against the counter and dropped her gaze to her hands. “I were s’posed to serve this to you in bed, but…” JJ sighed. Burnt pancakes were burnt pancakes wherever you served them, she reckoned. She tossed the rag over her shoulder, held out her hands, and waited for Yaz to take them. “Listen, Yaz, I know you wanted to go slow and everythin’ — and I respect that, I really do, but we both know you’re the only one for me. And I wanna be the only one for you. I, um, I want us to be exclusive.”

“JJ—”

“Yasmin Khan,” blurted JJ, forcing the words out so she didn’t end up choking them back, “it’d make me the happiest human alive if you would — if you would be my girlfriend.” Only one stutter. She was impressed with herself.

Yaz stared blankly at JJ for a few seconds. She looked at the half-drowned pancakes and the muscles in her face twitched. “Uh…”

“I can make better pancakes, if that’s the issue,” JJ rushed to assure her. “Ones that aren’t burnt and soggy. Or I can whip you up a full English, if y’like. Not sure we’ve any eggs left, actually, but the shop’s only—”

“Babe, the pancakes aren’t the problem.”

“Then what is?” asked JJ, stomach flipping at the word _problem._ She hated problems. Hated them most when they had anything to do with Yaz.

Except, when Yaz lifted her eyes again, they were varnished with an unexpected coat of amusement. She put her hands on JJ’s waist and stepped between her outstretched legs. “Jamie,” Yaz smiled, “I thought you were already my girlfriend.”

JJ blinked. “I — you — what?”

Laughing, Yaz shook her head and pressed a kiss to the deep crinkle between JJ’s brows. “You’re the only one for me too, babe.”

“Girlfriend…” JJ uttered, dumbstruck. She stared at a spot in the middle distance and let the word fill her mouth. Fill the room. Fill in every gap in the clouds and every pothole in the roads and every dry lake, empty hand, hollow grave. It grew to the size of a planet between one heartbeat and the next — and then it just kept growing. 

“You okay?” asked Yaz. “Need to sit down?”

JJ refocused her vision; set her sights on Yaz. “You’re my girlfriend.”

“Right. And you’re mine.”

“I’m yours…”

“Okay, seriously, do you need some water or something? ‘Cause you’re looking a little bit—”

JJ cut her off with a kiss. A grab-her-face-and-back-her-up-until-she-hits-a-solid-surface type of kiss. Sure enough, Yaz’s back collided with the breakfast bar and, when she gasped quietly upon impact, JJ seized the opportunity to deepen the kiss and slip her tongue past her parted lips. She didn’t know how best to articulate the immense joy she was feeling, so she decided it would be easier to spell it out without words.

It was only when JJ made as though to skirt her hand up Yaz’s top that Yaz peeled away from her mouth and gently wrapped her fingers around JJ’s wrist. “JJ, after last night, I honestly think I’m gonna be all maxed out for a while in that department.”

Every bit the smug devil, JJ grinned. “I really hope not,” she said. Nonetheless, she kissed Yaz’s cheek and withdrew. “Well, if I can’t show my gratitude like _that…_ ” JJ plucked the cardboard tube from the counter and presented it to Yaz with a flourish, as one might present a bouquet of roses (or weeds stolen from public pathways, in JJ’s case). 

“What’s this?” wondered Yaz, taking the tube from JJ’s hands.

“What, y’didn’t think all I’d get you for your birthday was a necklace, did you? Nah, you know me better than that.” Hands clasped behind her back, bouncing on the balls of her feet impatiently, JJ nodded towards the cap of the tube. “Go ahead.”

Sporting a mildly wary expression, Yaz popped the lid off the metre-length tube and shook it until the rolled up sheets within slid out into her waiting hand. She glanced at JJ. JJ just kept beaming at her. Making her way over to the dining room, Yaz unfurled the pages flat atop the surface of the table. Positively fizzing beside her, JJ studied Yaz’s face whilst Yaz studied the blueprints and schematics spread out before her with a small frown. 

“Look familiar?” prompted JJ, impatient for the penny in the air to drop at last.

Yaz looked between the sheets and JJ with gears grinding and squealing slowly behind her eyes. “Are these…”

‘Your dream home specifications!” JJ exclaimed. When, on the night Yaz got spiked and they ended up designing Yaz’s ideal home on a whim, JJ had taken every single stroke of her pen as seriously as she would have were she in a meeting with a client. More so. Maybe JJ didn’t have the cure for sadness; maybe she couldn’t fix things for her with her family or remedy a lifetime of loneliness — but if she could make even one of Yaz’s dreams come true, she would leap at the opportunity. 

Yaz took a step back from the table. “Why?”

“Why do you think, ladybird?” JJ put her hand on Yaz’s shoulder and peered down at the blueprints. “I’m gonna build it for you.”

“You’re gonna build me a home?” Yaz croaked.

“I am. Part two of the gift I gave you that night in the gardens, remember? Thought it might be time.” JJ’s hand fell from Yaz’s shoulder and she faced her dead on, causing Yaz to do the same. “You don’t have to worry about it meaning anythin’, either. This is all yours. No conditions, no fine print. I just wanna build a place for you where you feel happy. Safe. I want to give that to you, Yaz. If you’ll let me.” 

Yaz studied JJ for a long moment. “And what about you? What about your dream home?”

“Turns out, Yasmin, mine was never meant to be a place.” Light as a summer breeze, JJ rested her palm on Yaz’s cheek. “It was you. The thing I’ve been searchin’ for my whole life — it was always gonna be you.”

It was a while before Yaz’s shock, which held her tongue hostage for an agonising eternity, set them both free. Yaz covered the pale hand on her cheek with her own and seized JJ by her soul with an acutely intense and alarmingly hazardous stare. JJ didn’t know whether to be frightened or thrilled.

“Jamie,” Yaz muttered at last.

“Yeah?” 

“Pick a number between one and ten.”


	11. just say when

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: suicidal ideation, sexual threat (the chapter isn’t that dark I promise lmao)
> 
> also this chaps shorter than usual bc I ended up splitting it into two since it ended up being so fuckin dense so if it feels kinda lacking in substance and seems to end rly abruptly just consider it part one of a super long chapter!! that does mean the next one will also be in Yaz’s POV oop (and will probably just be like 80% smut bc I didn’t have much else planned for it lol). enjoy! hope ur all staying safe x

**Nine years ago**

Yasmin Khan never thought she’d be one of the red-eyed, blotchy-faced kids standing outside the school counsellor’s office, studying the ‘Drop-ins welcome!’ sign until the words lost all sense and became but hieroglyphics on a cave wall. Yasmin Khan thought she was stronger than this. 

Yasmin Khan was wrong.

A stronger girl wouldn’t let every vicious word sink into her bloodstream like lead; wouldn’t bear each and every one of them like weights she couldn’t shake. Yaz moved slow these days. She moved like a ghost, and only wished she was as hard to notice. She’d tried everything. She kept her head down. Put her earphones in. Hunched her shoulders. Avoided eye contact wherever possible. This all only served to widen the scope of the target on her back. She was tired of digging bullets, knives, arrowheads out of her spine. No sooner did one wound heal than another shot was taken at her. Those cruel kids — they never missed. 

For a time, Yaz convinced herself she could manage on her own. And she had. Week after week, month after month, Yaz walked the battlefield alone. She limped through the minefields, got caught in the crossfire, knuckled down in the trenches. And she never came close to falling. Until she did.

Yaz stopped getting the bus home from school. It was a long walk home, through the fields and along the country roads, but even blisters and chattering teeth beat being trapped in a sardine tin of her callous peers; the worst of her adversaries. What started out as a retreat from the front lines turned into something else entirely. Yaz walked those winding roads, feeling lost and out of place even if she knew the way home by heart, and every time a car sped by and ruffled her hair, her heart would get all riled up like it was preparing for something. It took a while for her to realise what that was. 

A few short steps.

That’s all it would take.

One day, rather than let such a malicious thought dissipate almost as soon as it materialised, Yaz let it block her path like a fallen tree and came to a stop in front of it. It was huge. No way around it. No way over it. Instead, Yaz turned towards the road. Waited. A moment passed, and the unmistakable sound of speeding tyres and a raring engine approached the curve in the road. They wouldn’t even see her until it was too late. 

Yaz took a breath. 

The silver nose of the car appeared around the bend.

She lifted her foot but, right at the last second, a voice at the back of her mind screamed like a shrill alarm and she jumped backwards. The car whizzed past with the blare of a horn — barrelled right through the invisible block in the road — and Yaz was left gaping after it, clutching her chest with a trembling hand; wondering, _what the fuck are you doing?_

Yaz decided right then. 

She had to reach out. She had to try, before she became naught but collateral damage to the war raging on behind her hollow eyes. This was the fear that drove her to the office the next day. This was the fear that forced her hand into a fist and brought that fist against the wood in four unsteady knocks.

“Come in,” called a familiar voice beyond the door.

Exhaling deeply, Yaz turned the door handle and stepped inside. It was cosy in the counsellor’s office. Small and littered with colourful knick knacks, potted plants, posters, motivational quotes, and bean bags instead of chairs on the closest side of the desk. Sitting behind a computer at said desk was the counsellor, a middle aged, bearded white man in a Hawaiian shirt and jeans. He looked up from his screen and smiled when he saw Yaz. 

“Good morning,” he said. “Yasmin, right?”

Yaz had met him once before when discussing college options. She nodded, dithering in the doorway. “Um, are you busy?”

“Not at all! Take a seat, Yasmin.” He gestured towards one of the bean bags. 

Closing the door behind her, Yaz did as instructed. She felt ridiculous when she sank into the seat — it put her vastly below eye level with the counsellor. She looked up at him and then her eyes slid right past him, landing on the deep red poster behind his head. _It’s OK not to be OK,_ it read. It sounded like a load of bullshit to Yaz. None of this was okay. 

He leaned forwards and steepled his hands. The bald spot on top of his head shone beneath the unflattering fluorescent lights. “So, what can I do for you today? Having second thoughts about your college options again?”

“Actually, Mr. Henderson—”

“Oh, come on. Mr. Henderson’s my dad. Call me Nick.” Mr. Henderson was infamous for constantly trying, and typically failing, to have the pupils at Notre Dame view him as more friend than advisor. He was nice enough, though, and he always smiled with his teeth. Yaz thought he was harmless. “Is it okay if I call you Yaz? That’s what your friends call you, isn’t it?”

Yaz dropped her eyes and fidgeted with a loose thread in the bean bag. “They might if I had any,” she mumbled. 

Mr. Henderson frowned. “You have friends! I always see you laughing around with, um, what’s her name? Izzy? Look pretty close to me.”

“Izzy’s not my friend,” snapped Yaz, a bout of nausea mushrooming at the mention of her name. What Mr. Henderson saw was, in all likelihood, Izzy and her cronies laughing _at_ her. It was a frequent enough occurrence. 

“All right, all right!” Mr. Henderson held his palms up. He pursed his lips. “Is that why you’re here? Because you’re feeling lonely?” 

Yaz shrugged. A long silence followed. 

“Are you being bullied, Yaz?”

Again, Yaz held her tongue. She hadn’t come here to grass out Izzy and the rest — that would do her no favours. She’d come here because she was the lowest she’d ever been, because every day she woke up and the water was already up to her neck, and by the time she left school, she was totally submerged. Drowning — day after day. She’d come here because she needed a lifeline. Only, actually finding a way to word that proved far more difficult than anticipated. 

Mr. Henderson sighed. “You came to me, remember? I can’t help if you don’t talk.” He opened up a notepad on his desk and clicked his pen. “Why don’t you give me a list of names?”

“No. That’s not — I’m not a snitch,” insisted Yaz. She glared at the notepad. “Can you close that?”

“If you like.” Mr. Henderson closed the pad and set his pen down. “You realise that anything you say in this room, as long as I don’t perceive a threat to yourself or to anybody else, is entirely confidential? Speak your mind, Yaz. You’re safe in here.” 

Yaz looked up. “When you say ‘a threat to yourself’, what does that mean?”

“Well, if I think someone’s hurting you, or if I think you’re going to hurt yourself, I’ll have to tell someone. Your parents. The authorities, if necessary. It’s all for your own good.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not thinking of doing something silly, are you, Yaz?”

“Well, I couldn’t tell you if I was, could I?” grumbled Yaz. She felt a fool for coming in here. 

Mr. Henderson tilted his head. “They’re just words, kiddo. You’re a smart girl, you know that. Give it a year, you’ll be out of this place. You want my advice? Don’t let the bastards get you down.” He winked at that. If Yaz was supposed to be impressed that he’d sworn in front of her, his efforts went in vain.

“What kind of advice is that? I can’t control how I feel. I can’t just decide not to get hurt when every single day, everyone at this school goes out of their way to make me feel like shit. If you heard half the things they said…” Yaz shook her head. She was getting angry. She was shaking. An unfortunate symptom of Yaz’s rage, one that caused her no small measure of strife, was her tendency to cry. She hated it, because it made her look weak. But wasn’t she weak? Sitting on a bean bag and ranting to the personification of a mid-life crisis about her petty troubles? She should just leave. 

Before she got the chance, Mr. Henderson grabbed the box of tissues on his desk and rounded it towards her. He handed her the box, drew the blinds closed (which Yaz thought was strange), and sat down on the bean bag beside her. He waited for her to dry her eyes before speaking. 

“To be honest, I can probably imagine some of the things they say. Kids never really change that much, Yaz.” He put his hand on Yaz’s shoulder and Yaz stiffened. She willed him to move it away but it just lingered and lingered. “Know what I’ve learned in my many years as a school counsellor? The bullies are always the most insecure of the lot. They choose girls like you, because you make them feel inferior. Know why that is, Yaz?”

Yaz didn’t say anything. Something felt wrong, and she couldn’t put her finger on it. Her gut was telling her to run. She wanted to run.

She couldn’t move. 

“It’s because they see what I see when I look at you,” Mr. Henderson went on, leaning in so close that Yaz could feel his breath on her cheek. It smelled like liquorice. “That, in a few years’ time, you’ll be bringing men everywhere to their knees. You should seek comfort in that, Yaz. It’s a powerful thing.”

Finally, Mr. Henderson removed his hand.

Only to rest it on her knee. Her bare knee — just beneath the hem of her skirt. Suddenly, Yaz felt sick and scared and trapped. Mr. Henderson was right; Yaz _was_ smart. Smart enough to recognise inappropriate behaviour when she saw it. Smart enough to realise that she was in immediate danger. 

“I think I should leave,” she managed to croak. Her eyes darted towards the door and she silently prayed that someone would walk in. Help her. Save her. 

No such luck.

“I told you, Yaz. You’re safe in here. It’s just the two of us.” Mr. Henderson stroked his thumb across Yaz’s thigh and Yaz was screaming, only not out loud. She cast one more desperate glance towards the door. No one was coming. She came to terms with that in that instant: no one was coming to rescue Yaz. No one was going to help her. No one cared enough. 

She’d just have to save herself. 

Yaz blinked, and her eyes turned cold.

Mr. Henderson nudged his hand up Yaz’s leg and she felt entirely numb when she reached for it, wrapped her own hand around his middle finger, and yanked it backwards until she heard the bone break. He screamed. Out loud. A string of curses spewed out of his twisted mouth and, when he scrambled away, Yaz seized her window. She bolted for the door and ran. She ran past teachers fleeing to the scene, pupils gawking in the hallways, the headteacher who held her arms out to try and stop her. 

Yaz hopped the gate and fled to the last safe place in the universe: home. 

Whatever part of her had been clinging to the hope that maybe, at least inside those four walls, she could seek out solace from any other than herself was squashed the moment she set foot inside. Because the school had called. Obviously. Her parents were confused and angry and Yaz didn’t even get a chance to bury herself in the comfort of her mother’s arms before she was being driven right back to school to get to the bottom of things. 

_Okay,_ she thought. _This is how it is now. There’ll never be anybody in my corner but me._

By the time the truth got out and her parents were finally eager to give Yaz that hug she’d so sorely needed when it mattered most, it was too late. Yaz had already closed herself off. She never told them why she’d been to see the counsellor in the first place, no matter how much they asked. The world, in all its grim horror, had reared its ugly head at Yaz. She’d seen its teeth and she’d tasted its venom and she was done fighting it. Let it have her. 

Matters weren’t helped when rumours about what went down between Yaz and Mr. Henderson circulated around the school — some of them true, most of them not. Yaz became even more of a pariah. Not a single sanctuary left in the world. 

But Yaz didn’t cry anymore. Yaz didn’t wallow; didn’t entertain any notions that if she hurt loud enough somebody would somehow hear it. Most days, she didn’t even feel as if she inhabited the body she glimpsed when she passed by mirrors. Which is why it was easy enough to make the decision to kill it. 

When Yaz left home one Saturday afternoon under the pretence of going to the library, it was just beginning to rain. By the time she reached the lethal bend on that endless, country road, the sky was a thick canopy of grey and thunder broke with almost every breath she took. Yaz was drenched to the bone. Lightning struck a tree in the distance and Yaz idly wondered what that must feel like. 

This wasn’t like last time. 

Last time she’d been emotional. It got in the way. Now, here, Yaz didn’t feel anything but ready. She’d learned not to count on anyone to show up at the last minute. This wasn’t a movie. This wasn’t a story. This was her life, and she’d leave it as she lived it. Alone. 

Yaz was gearing up for the plunge, waiting for a car to come careening down fast enough. She couldn’t take any risks. One hit and done; that’s all she wanted. 

But then — not seconds after she’d whispered a final goodbye to the sky — headlights in her eyes. She hadn’t heard the car approaching because it was moving at a crawl. Now, all she saw was bright lights and the lashing rain lit up like cascading sparks. Yaz squinted and shielded her eyes. A stranger sat behind the wheel of a grey Audi. On the side of the door was the name of a local cab company. Then the back door opened, and out stepped Yaz’s first responder.

The moment she saw her, Yaz’s narrow eyes widened. “Sonya?” 

“Yaz? Oh, thank god!” Racing towards her through the torrential sheets of rain, Sonya barrelled into Yaz and wrapped her arms around her. Yaz was speechless; stock still and opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water. “I’ve been searching all afternoon. I — I thought — Jesus, Yaz. You idiot.”

“Son, what on _Earth_ are you doing here?” 

“What do you think?” Sonya pulled away but kept her hands on Yaz’s arms. Rain was streaming down her face but Sonya’s puffy eyes alluded to tears unseen. “The library, Yaz? You’ve never been to the library in your life.”

Yaz was still in shock. This wasn’t how it happened. There weren’t any last minute rescues or white knights; there was no salvation. Certainly, they didn’t come in the form of her obnoxious, self-serving little sister. And yet she’d never been happier to see her. The notion that she might never have done so again struck her, violently and without warning, and Yaz found that she now knew exactly what that charred tree felt like. 

Thunder bellowed overhead and Yaz was suddenly feeling the cold. “How… how did you…” 

“You’ve not been yourself for months, Yaz.” Sonya wiped a lock of sodden hair out of her face. “Did you think no one noticed?”

Yaz’s jaw trembled. “Mum and dad—”

“I had to tell them, Yaz. I went to the library and you weren’t there and I just — I had to tell them. They know something’s up too. We split up all over town looking for you.” Sonya raked her wide, sad eyes over Yaz’s shaking body and then pulled her into another relieved hug. Yaz felt Sonya’s body wrack with sobs and, this time, she reciprocated the embrace. “Were you really gonna do it? Were you just gonna leave?”

“I…” 

“You _idiot,_ why would you do that?” Sonya shoved Yaz away from her and Yaz let her. Didn’t fight back. “You think you’re all alone, Yaz. That’s all you ever say. Don’t we count? We love you! If you don’t wanna live for yourself, whatever. Fine. Do it for us. For me!”

Yaz locked her hands together behind her head and her lower lip wobbled. “You’re too young to understand, Sonya.”

“You’re fifteen, Yaz, okay? You’re _fifteen._ You’re not that much older than me, and you’re definitely not as wise as you think you are. Look at yourself! What’s clever about this? What’s this gonna solve?” Sonya sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve. She looked so young and it broke Yaz’s heart. She shouldn’t have been the one to find her like this. “Did you even think about me?”

Desperate for Sonya not to take this on herself, Yaz shook her head and took a step closer. “Of course I thought about you.”

Sonya scoffed. “So you just decided I wasn’t important enough?”

“No,” muttered Yaz. “I decided you’d be okay without me.”

“Well, that’s bullshit! You’re bullshit! You’re my sister, Yaz. If you died, I’d die. And Mum, Dad, Nani — our whole family would be in bits,” Sonya shouted over the rain; eyes flashing in the brilliance of a nearby crack of lightning. “Whatever’s going on, just deal with it. Grow up! If not for yourself, then for everyone else. You want a reason to live, Yaz? Pick this one. Pick us.”

Yaz stared at her sister. She couldn’t understand the magnitude of what she was asking. Sonya was barely a teenager; she didn’t know how bleak the real world was yet. But then, did Yaz really want to be the one to disillusion her? Did she want to be the one to tear down the curtain and leave her sister to deal with the devastation of reality without her? Sonya still had time to be a kid. She still had time to enjoy life. What kind of sister would Yaz be if she stole that from her? No kind at all. 

“Promise me, Yaz,” urged Sonya. Vice-like, she gripped Yaz by her shoulders. “Promise me you’re gonna stay.” 

Yaz looked to the black sky. The black world. She closed her eyes and prayed for strength, because this was going to be the hardest vow she’d ever had to keep: the vow to endure. To strap on her boots, march back out to the red zone, and live to fight another day. Not because she wanted to, but because her sister was asking. Because, in this whole universe, maybe just one person needed her alive. 

And maybe that was enough. 

For now.

“I promise.”

**Present day**

“So it was your family you decided to live for? Interesting,” mused Clara, tapping the side of her cheek thoughtfully. 

“Yeah? What’s so interesting about that?”

Yaz had been dubious about Clara to begin with. She was young and full of spright and she dressed like a quirky English teacher — not typically how one expects a therapist to present. Still, she got decent reviews and every session cost an arm and a leg, so Yaz decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. She was a lot blunter than Yaz had counted on. Fortunately, Yaz responded well to straightforward people. Layered metaphors, gentle suggestions, and overall beating around the bush she could do without.

“It’s interesting, because in our last session you told me you were relieved when you finally had a chance to put some distance between your family and yourself.”

“I don’t think I said—”

“Yep. Relieved. Wrote it down and everything.” Clara lifted her notepad from her lap and flashed it to Yaz, brief enough that Yaz didn’t actually have time to work out whether or not she was lying. “To me — and do tell me if I’m off base, because I rarely am — this suggests that, in severing ties with your family, you were allowing yourself the option to fall back on drastic measures you’d once promised not to even consider. Because if your family isn't in your life anymore, the promise is kinda null, right?”

Yaz frowned. “I’ve not been speaking to my family for almost a year. If I wanted to do something, I’ve had plenty of time.”

“True. But a lot of people who struggle with depression and, as with your case, suicidal ideation — they tend to seek comfort in the fact that it’s at least something they _could_ do. If they really wanted to. Like, say you’re having a really bad day, or you’re really worried about something, you’d just go: oh, well, if it gets any worse, I can always just end it. Makes people feel a little more in control. Like there’s always an out.”

“I haven’t thought about doing anything like that in years,” refuted Yaz, picking at one of the buttons in the arm of her leather chair. 

“I hate to break it to you, Yaz, but reckless self-destruction _is_ like that.” Clara tilted her head and clasped her hands together. “Can I ask you a question?”

Yaz spread her hands. “Isn’t that what we’re here for?”

“I’ve told you about answering questions with questions, Mrs.”

“God, you even talk like a teacher.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Just — ask your question. Please.” 

Clara smiled. The harmless back-and-forth cropped up frequently in most of their sessions. “Sitting here now, how do you feel about that period of your life? Back when you were fifteen?”

“Um.” Yaz fidgeted in her seat. She crossed her leg over her knee and picked at the laces of her Docs. “Fine, I guess. It were a long time ago. I mean, I still can’t stomach liquorice ‘cause it just reminds me of his breath. And I hate thunderstorms. Like, _despise_ them.”

“They’re a trigger for you?”

“I wouldn’t say — I mean, it’s not like I’m a soldier or something.”

“Yaz, it’s a fairly common misconception that you have to have fought in a war or dived on a grenade to experience trauma. Don’t you think that it was traumatic for you to turn to an adult that you were supposed to trust during one of the lowest points of your life, when you were just a _child,_ only for him to take advantage of that trust? Don't you think it was traumatic to come so close to taking your own life? Does that not seem like the kind of thing that has a lasting effect?”

Yaz sighed. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say the right answer is yes?”

“There is no right answer, there’s only what’s true for you. I might look like a teacher, but I promise there aren’t any tests at the end of this. Well. Not coming from me. Out there, though?” Clara gestured towards the window, which looked out over the street outside her practise. “Out there, you’re gonna be tested every single day. I’m only trying to help you come to terms with your past, so that it doesn’t keep impacting your present. Or your future, for that matter.” She put her notepad down on the coffee table between them and leaned forwards, elbows resting on her knees. “I’m gonna let you in on a secret, Yaz. The world didn’t magically become a crueller place after Mr. Henderson took advantage of you.”

Yaz gritted her teeth. “I’m not stupid, Clara.”

“I’m not speaking to you as though you are. Quite the opposite,” Clara asserted, as stern as she was earnest. “Listen up, Yaz. What happened to you was awful. It makes me sick to think about it, so I can’t imagine how it must make you feel. But this one man has had power over you for almost a decade now. He’s shaped the last nine years of your life. Him, and Izzy Flint, and all those other brats at school. When I said the world didn’t just become a crueller place, I wasn’t condescending you. I was trying to say that you’ve used them as an excuse to _search_ for reasons as to why the world is cruel, all to support the decision you made a long time ago that the world is a bleak and unjust place and that you don’t belong in it. Every time something bad happens, it affirms that belief you’ve been clinging to for so long; makes you feel justified in isolating yourself and cutting everybody out. And, at the end of the day, it makes the world a lot easier to leave behind — should you ever make that call.” 

“But you’re making it sound like I enjoy the way things are,” protested Yaz. “Like I want this.”

“It might not be that you want it; it might just be what you’re used to. What’s familiar. In order to break the chain, you’re gonna have to step outside your comfort zone. Change is a conscious effort.” Clara sat back and let her advice sink in for a beat. “Speaking of, have you managed to tell your girlfriend you love her yet?” 

Yaz’s brows drew together. “What’s that gotta do with anything?”

“It’s got to do with everything, Yaz. The ability to express your feelings is one of your biggest obstacles. And JJ — she’s one of the most significant people in your life right now. The last time things turned sour between the two of you, it triggered a serious breakdown of your mental health. It’s what initially brought you to me.”

“So?”

“So, the fact that you’ve still got one foot out the door tells me that you’re banking on it all turning to shit. Another excuse for you to slip back into that dark place. Your comfort zone.” Clara shrugged. “Am I right?”

“You don’t understand. I’m not waiting for it all to turn to shit, I just — if I say it, then it’s like it’s set in stone. It becomes really real really fast, and I know how she’ll react.”

“How’s that?”

Yaz breathed a laugh. “She’ll probably get down on one knee.” Taking a deep breath, Yaz gazed out through the slits in the blinds and chewed her lip. “I do want her, and I want this to work more than I’ve wanted anything for years, but she scares me. How much she loves me. She sets the bar on that front. For, like, the whole world. And what if I hurt her?”

“Every relationship in the world runs the risk of one or all parties getting hurt. That’s life. To me, the fact that you’re so concerned about that happening is a pretty good sign. You’re a good person, Yaz. A good person with attachment issues — hence why you’re so scared of the love between the two of you. It’s big, right? It’s a lot more than you’ve afforded yourself in a long time, so it’s only natural that you should feel a little apprehension. But there’s apprehension, and then there’s self-sabotage.” Yaz opened her mouth to object, but Clara cut her off before she could get past the first syllable. “Do you think she’ll stick around forever if you keep holding out? Would you want that for her?”

Yaz glared at Clara, but she was making an infuriating amount of sense. “No.”

“No. You’d want so much more for her. Now apply that same attitude to yourself, because you’re not just doing it to her.” Clara pointed her pen at Yaz. “You’re doing it to you. You’re denying yourself the right to be happy. Nobody else.”

“So tell me what to do!” implored Yaz. “That’s why I pay you so bloody much, isn’t it? I’m sitting in this stupid chair because I _want_ to be happy. I _want_ to change. So just tell me how!”

Unaffected as ever by Yaz’s outbursts, Clara only smiled patiently at Yaz and waited for her to mumble her inevitable apology before pressing on. “Answer me this, Yaz. Do you love yourself?”

The question caught Yaz off guard. She had no snarky comment or brusque deflection on hand, and was left with no choice but to stew on Clara’s question. “I dunno,” she admitted at last. “Don’t see what that has to do with JJ though. They’re two completely separate things.”

“If you don’t mind, I’m gonna disagree with you on that one,” said Clara. “Love, in all its forms, always comes from the same place. For the sake of ease, we’ll call it the heart. Not to say that you can’t love others without first loving yourself — because that’s a load of crap — but if you store all the love you have in your heart and then hide it behind a bunch of barriers so colossal that there isn’t even a channel wide enough for your self-love to flow freely out, then how is anything else supposed to follow?”

“I’m not sure _I_ even follow.”

“Yeah, that was a tad flowery, wasn’t it?” agreed Clara with a cringe. “What I’m trying to say is that love needs nurturing. It needs room to grow and breathe and it needs to see the light of day. Not just love of others but love of the self. As one flourishes, you’ll usually find that the other does too.”

Yaz threw her hands up. “And what am I supposed to do about that?”

“You want me to be a teacher so bad? Have some homework.” Clara’s expression sobered and Yaz braced herself for a tough assignment. “Be openly and unapologetically kinder to yourself. Be kinder to the people you care about. _Show_ your feelings, Yaz — and talking about them will become easier in time.”

* * *

Yaz went straight from therapy to JJ’s place. 

For the past few weeks, JJ had been picking her up from Clara’s practice whenever she was able — even if only so JJ could spend her lunch break with Yaz and make herself available should it have been a particularly gruelling session. That day, JJ had other arrangements. Totally out of her control. She’d insisted to Yaz that she could get out of it (in fact, she seemed to want to get out of it). However, the second Yaz found out exactly what _it_ was, she emphatically refused. 

When Yaz exited the elevator, she entered JJ’s apartment to find that a large space in her living room had been cleared. In its place was a white-screen canvas backdrop which extended across half the floor, alongside several spotlights and a camera. There was a photographer behind it, and JJ was in front of it. She looked all kinds of uncomfortable. But also, noted Yaz, adorable. 

Draped in an oversized cream sweater with two varsity-reminiscent black bands on the sleeves, whose cuffs stopped just shy of her knuckles, she somehow looked smaller than she was. Her blush velvet trousers cut off above her ankles and a pair of cashmere socks poked out of her brogues. Her hair looked as though it had been fluffed to death and, the moment she saw it, Yaz wanted nothing more than to run her hands through it. 

Upon Yaz’s approach, JJ’s head snapped to the side and she beamed, shedding her uneasiness in a heartbeat. The photographer was hasty to capture a few photos of opportunity. Yaz wondered how long he’d been at it, and how difficult JJ was making it for him. 

“Yaz!” JJ waved with no small measure of enthusiasm. 

“Hey, babe,” greeted Yaz. She’d hardly set her bag down on the sofa before JJ abandoned her post and rushed to meet her, enveloping her in a hug that was made all the warmer by JJ’s soft sweater. Yaz heard the photographer sigh quietly and smiled despite herself. “How’s the shoot going? You had your interview yet?”

“Nah, doin’ that later. They wanted the pictures first,” explained JJ, pulling away from Yaz and looking down at herself with a palpable quantum of self-consciousness. “Takin’ a while though, to be honest. I’m not exactly used to this kinda stuff. Dunno why they need my picture anyway. Architects don’t even go on the cover of the magazine, that’ll be my skyscraper! Ridiculous, if y’ask me.”

“Yeah, but they’re putting you inside the magazine, aren’t they? And on the website. This face,” said Yaz, pinching JJ’s cheek lightly, “is gonna be _great_ for business. Trust me.”

JJ swatted Yaz’s hand away but not before Yaz felt the warmth in her cheek. “I’m just — Jack’s always been better at this stuff.”

“Jack didn’t design the building. You did. You should be proud of yourself, JJ. I know I’m proud of you.” At that, JJ’s skin flushed red and Yaz smiled. She took her hand. “C’mon. I’ll help you loosen up. Where’s the jukebox got to?”

After selecting an upbeat track on the jukebox, Yaz attempted to help JJ relax by dancing with her. She took her hands and tried to make her move but every time she remembered the camera, JJ stiffened right back up and her eyes fell to her feet. Sighing, Yaz abandoned her efforts and cupped JJ’s face, tilting it until JJ was left with no choice but to meet her inquisitive gaze. 

“What is it, babe?” asked Yaz, every bit patient and willing to listen. JJ’s eyes flitted briefly towards the photographer. Understanding instantly, Yaz turned to him. “Why don’t you take a smoke break, yeah?”

“I don’t smoke.”

Yaz rolled her eyes. “Just do one, mate.” When he’d closed the balcony doors behind him, JJ — still standing in front of the screen — buried her hands in her pockets and scuffed the toes of her shoes against the white canvas. Yaz put her hand on her back. “Okay, we’re alone. What’s bothering you?”

JJ mumbled something but Yaz didn’t catch it.

“Sorry?”

Again, JJ’s reply came out as nothing but a string of muddled consonants. 

“Jamie, look at me,” said Yaz. Pitching a sigh that bordered on sulky, JJ faced Yaz without lifting her eyes. Yaz ducked her head. “Good. Now, once more with feeling?”

JJ’s throat bobbed. Her voice came out quiet enough that Yaz had to strain to hear her when she finally said, “It’s the scar.” 

Yaz leaned back. _Oh._ The scar on JJ’s cheek, she thought, had healed pretty nicely. It was but a thin white line on an already pale complexion, hardly noticeable until she was standing face to face with JJ. And even then, it wasn’t something Yaz had ever considered a blemish. She’d gotten used to it — grown fond of it — straight away. More so when JJ disclosed exactly how she’d earned it. 

“Babe,” sighed Yaz. “I didn’t know this was something you were still self-conscious about.”

“It’s not. I mean, it’s not usually.” JJ shrugged. “But they’re taking my picture. With, y’know, a properly professional camera. And it’s gonna be in a magazine that a lot of people read, and… and not everyone sees it like you do.” 

Yaz considered this. “I mean, you’re right. Not everyone who notices it is gonna wanna kiss it, which is how I always feel when I see it.” She reached for JJ’s hands and pulled her in, dusting her lips across first her smooth cheek, and then her scarred one. She thudded their foreheads together and JJ picked her eyes up off the ground. “I’ll tell you what though, JJ — you got that scar on a day when the world became a little bit easier to bear. You fought off your monsters and the monsters fought back. But who won?” Disentangling one of her hands, Yaz grazed the knuckle of her index finger across the raised tissue and JJ tracked the movement with her eyes. “Only survivors have scars, babe. That’s something to hold your head up high about. Fuck what anybody else says. You’re Jamie bloody Smith, and you’re the most beautiful person I know.” 

“I am?” asked JJ, hopeful honey-hazels leaping between Yaz’s unwavering blacks.

“You are. You’re gorgeous, JJ. I mean it,” said Yaz. And she really did. It struck her that she probably didn’t say it as much as she ought to have. “If you ask me, the scar elevates you. Gives you a certain… je ne sais quois.” 

Smiling with her teeth at last, JJ wiggled her brows and squeezed Yaz’s hand. “Oh, do tell me more, mi amor.” Yaz laughed and they touched lips, JJ’s hands finding purchase on Yaz’s waist. The kiss was gentle, unhurried, a moment of calm. When they pulled back, both their eyes were aglow and the spotlights had nothing to do with it. “Tu es ma raison d'être, coccinelle,” JJ murmured in Yaz’s ear. 

Yaz’s heart fluttered like a flag in a breeze. “What does that mean?” she asked, though she had an inkling. 

JJ kissed Yaz’s forehead. “It means,” she began, peeling away from Yaz and spreading her arms wide, “I’m ready for my close-up!”

They brought the photographer back in and, sure enough, JJ returned to her usual spirited self. Yaz remained behind the camera to give her something to focus on, which made things all the more easier. Although, when Yaz made a few suggestive gestures behind the cameraman’s back for her own amusement, JJ got more than a little bit flustered and Yaz forced herself to stop teasing her. It wasn’t fair (but it was so, deliciously fun).

After a while, JJ pulled Yaz back onto the screen and implored their increasingly exasperated photographer to capture the two of them as they danced, hugged, kissed, laughed. They laughed a lot. 

When the photographer packed up and left, Yaz helped JJ move her furniture back in place in time for the interviewer to arrive. They were running late — apparently, they were supposed to have arrived with the photographer — but Yaz didn’t mind. It meant she had JJ all to herself for a little longer. Whilst JJ sat at the table and went over her notes, Yaz cut up some fruit for them. Licking strawberry juice from her thumb, she carried the bowl over and sat down beside JJ. 

“Nervous?” wondered Yaz.

JJ squeezed Yaz’s knee. “Not anymore.” She lifted her eyes from the pages in front of her and her face lit up when she saw the bowl sitting between them. “Ooh, grapes. Nice one, Yaz. Love a good grape. Weird that raisins come from grapes, init? Can’t stomach a raisin. Whoever decided that leavin’ grapes to bake in the sun for how many hours was a good idea should be deeply ashamed. Donald Trump of fruits, y’ask me.” JJ proceeded to grab a handful of grapes from the dish and throw one up into the air. She tried to catch it in her mouth but, instead, it bounced off the frame of her glasses and skidded across the floor. Determined not to be defeated, she tried again — only for Yaz to pluck it out of the air and pop it into her own mouth. “Oi!”

“Teach you not to play with your food, won’t it, babe?” teased Yaz. “Anyway, I thought pears were the Trump of fruits?”

“Ugh. Okay, pears are Trump and grapes are…”

“Thatcher?”

“Exactly!” JJ shivered in disgust and fed the next grape directly into her mouth. “So,” she began mid-chew, angling herself towards Yaz, “how was therapy?”

Yaz speared a piece of melon with a toothpick and twirled it absently between her fingers. “It were all right, I s’pose. It — um, it gave me a lot to think about.” In truth, Yaz had been mulling over Clara’s homework assignment the whole way up to JJ’s. _Be kinder to the people you care about._ Her eyes flickered briefly over JJ. It was one thing to call her her girlfriend; it was another to make JJ feel as though that label held as much weight to Yaz as it did her. But, in order to prove that, she was going to have to put the point across in a way JJ understood — because, unlike Yaz, JJ’s love language was gestures. Grand and romantic. It was time for Yaz to make one of her own. “I wanna go somewhere.”

Chipmunk-cheeked with a gob full of grapes, JJ froze. “You wanna leave?” 

“Together, I mean. I want to go away. Just me and you,” elucidated Yaz. Relieved, JJ’s shoulders slackened and she finally decided to chew her food. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Last time was Paris, and that were only for a night.” 

JJ hummed her agreement. When she finally swallowed her mouthful, she pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Funny y’should say so, actually. I were goin’ over that list of places I wanted to take you — y’know, from the plan? — and I remembered a bunch of other places I never even thought to put in. There’s this beautiful little Italian town—” Yaz wrapped her hand around JJ’s wrist, stopping her while she was ahead. Quizzical, JJ looked between Yaz’s hand and her face. “Not a fan of Italy? The wasps are massive in the countryside, I’ll grant you that. But the food? Oh, don’t get me started.”

Yaz smiled. “Actually, babe, what I was tryna say is that I wanna take _you_ somewhere.”

Slowly, JJ lowered her phone. “I… what?”

“My treat,” said Yaz. She’d devised half a plan in the thirty minutes it had taken her to get from Clara’s practice to JJ’s apartment. It would take a little time, a chunk of money, and a conscious level of commitment she’d never before exhibited. And for JJ, she’d do it. She wanted to. 

“Oh,” muttered JJ. She looked confused. “So — but, you still wanna use the jet, right? And I can still pay for everythin’.”

“No, babe. This one’s all me, okay?” Yaz put her hand on JJ’s thigh. “You’ve done so much for me, JJ. I think it’s about time I returned the favour, don’t you?” 

“It’s not like I’m keepin’ score, Yaz.”

“I know you aren’t, ‘cause you’re not like that. You’re generous and selfless and that’s exactly why I wanna do this for you.” Yaz’s lips twitched and she relocated her hand to the side of JJ’s neck, massaging the tips of her fingers through the finer hairs at the back of her head. “Think you deserve a little romancing, babe, don’t you?”

JJ stared openly at Yaz. “You’d do that for me?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” said Yaz. “I would. If you’re okay with it?”

“More than okay,” JJ enthused, nodding her head eagerly. “Delighted. Ecstatic. On top of the world and over the moon and among the stars and—”

Yaz cupped JJ’s chin and kissed her, and it wasn’t to hush her. It was because she just couldn’t help herself. JJ’s lips parted with a soft sigh and one of her hands made its way to the side of Yaz’s face, where the hem of her sleeve tickled her cheek. 

Yaz was perfectly fine with admitting, at least to herself, that not even the wildest of kisses she’d shared with flings and friends and strangers held a candle to the way JJ’s lips made her feel. Whether they gently grazed her own like two shy hands accidentally brushing, or whether they crushed into her like a speeding car wrapping around a lamppost, JJ’s mouth was forever a doorway to universes Yaz had never before even dreamed of exploring. Time stood still or disappeared completely. The ground fell out from beneath her feet. Every long dead star flickered back to life and she felt their collective fire raging under her tongue.

But that was JJ.

An adventure. An impossibility. A million burning suns. There was no escaping a light like that. Fortunately for Yaz, she had no intentions of trying to. 

“So,” smiled Yaz once time started back up, “I take it that’s a yes?”

JJ danced her thumb across Yaz’s cheekbone. “An extremely enthusiastic one.”

“You’ll have to trust me, yeah? No secret arrangements, or planning things behind my back. I don’t want you worrying about a thing. Just let me take care of it all. Let me take care of you.”

“Just say when, Yasmin,” murmured JJ. “I’d follow you anywhere.” 

* * *

It was dreary Tuesday afternoon when Yaz quit the club.

Outside, the sun couldn’t be bothered to find a gap in the clouds, the lethargic rain drizzled rather than lashed; even the air was flat. Not so much as a breeze. None of this a monument to the monumental nature of the day. 

Yaz walked out of the manager’s office into flashing blue and pink lights. She didn’t know how to describe the way she was feeling. A Rihanna song rattled her teeth and, distantly, Yaz thought it strange to know she’d never need to utilise her perfected-to-death routine for that track ever again. Not if she was lucky. 

Aside from a few regulars, alcoholics, and JJ — who was waiting for her at the end of the hallway — the club was mostly dead. There were a few girls on stage but it wasn’t due to pick up until much later. The shortage of staff was precisely why she’d chosen to do it earlier in the day. A big deal she could do without. She’d get together with the dancers she actually liked for a proper sendoff eventually but, for the time being, Yaz was content to walk out with JJ’s hand in her own and her head held high. 

“How’d it go?” asked JJ once Yaz reached her. She was smiling ear to ear. JJ was the first person Yaz had told about her plans to leave the club and, as expected, she’d been nothing short of totally supportive. Not because she didn’t think Yaz ought to have been working as a dancer, but because she knew it wasn’t what Yaz wanted. Not really. 

And that’s why Yaz left. For herself. 

Clara had been right that she needed to start treating herself better, that she needed to evacuate her comfort zone before she became institutionalised, and part of that meant accepting that she had outgrown her dependence on the club. Yes, it had been there for her when she needed it and yes, she was thankful for the experience — but now she had real dreams to follow. 

Whether she crashed and burned up on that theatre stage in a few days’ time or not, this was no longer the life she wanted for herself. She’d rather set fire to her safety net and walk the tightrope across the plunge. Time would tell if she was doomed to fall.

Regardless, the notion seemed a lot less daunting when Yaz only remembered that the furthest she’d have to fall was into JJ’s waiting arms. 

“It’s done,” said Yaz, allowing JJ to wind her arms around her waist. “I’m out.”

JJ’s eyebrows jumped. “That’s it? There’s no, I dunno, notice period?”

“It’s a strip club, babe. What do you think?”

JJ grinned. “I’m dead happy for you, Yaz. You’re about to start a whole new chapter of your life!” While she’d obviously meant for the sentiment to come across as reassuring, Yaz couldn’t deny the way her stomach flipped. _No turning back now._ As if sensing something was the matter, JJ tilted her head. “What about you, ladybird? How you feelin’?”

Yaz exhaled deeply and swept her eyes across the dark room with a subtle shake of her head. “I mean, I’m relieved. Definitely. But I’m also nervous, I think.”

“Well, it’s a big step. It’s only normal to feel a little anxious. Just remember who you are, Yaz. Remember that you can do anythin’ you set your mind to. Whether that’s performing on stage or somethin’ else altogether. You’ll always have my full support.”

“What if I messed up? What if I’m awful up there?”

“Impossible,” JJ stated matter-of-factly. “Even if the worst happens, which it won’t, it’s not the end of the world. It’s one play. And if it doesn’t go well, we can try again. Start from scratch. Do somethin’ new, if y’like.”

Yaz smiled. “We?”

“Yeah. We.” JJ kissed Yaz’s cheek. “We’re in this together, okay?”

“Okay,” said Yaz. She exhaled some of her anxiety. Surprisingly, JJ’s reassurances were helping. 

JJ laced her fingers through Yaz’s and smiled coyly. “Y’know, while we’re still here and everythin’, I figured we could celebrate your exit from the club a bit.”

“Oh, is that right?” Yaz laughed. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

“C’mon.”

JJ tugged Yaz’s hand and led her down the hallway towards one of the private suites. They closed the door behind them and Yaz was half expecting JJ to ask her to dance for her one last time. That’s not what happened. Instead, JJ kissed her beneath the hazy, blue lights, to the tune of a sleazy song the likes of which made hearts slow and temperatures rise. JJ’s hands slid around Yaz’s waist and then further south until they were fitted snugly in the back pockets of her jeans. That this room was forbidden to them now made the encounter all the more titillating. 

JJ teased one of Yaz’s lips between her teeth and Yaz fisted her hands in the front of JJ’s shirt. The kiss became so heated and noisy and intense that, at first, Yaz didn’t even notice when JJ shrugged off her blazer and began to unbutton her own shirt. 

“What are you doing?” Yaz asked, breathless. 

“Well, you’ve put on a show for me so many times,” explained JJ, popping her buttons open agonisingly slowly, “I thought it were only right of me to return the favour.”

Yaz started to laugh. “You’re gonna give me a strip tease? You?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Absolutely nothing, babe.” Yaz kissed JJ’s bottom lip. “Keep going.”

JJ winked at Yaz and then, in the most adorable attempt at sexiness, began to slowly peel her shirt off her body. Yaz stifled a laugh. Still, even if JJ wasn’t as naturally gainly as Yaz, her toned stomach and cutting collarbones soon wiped the smirk from her face. Biting the inside of her cheek, Yaz watched JJ’s slender fingers drop to the buckle of her belt. Her mouth had gone dry. 

“Aren’t you gonna dance for me?” Yaz cracked, but the humour was missing from her eyes — substituted by heady desire.

“Think we both know I look like a deer on ice when I dance.” JJ yanked her belt off and dropped it onto the floor. She advanced upon Yaz, took her gently by her waist, and walked her backwards towards the sofa. After a tender kiss in which JJ held Yaz’s face so delicately she felt like something breakable, something no person could ever care for as considerately, JJ nodded towards the sofa. “Take a seat.”

“Hang on.” From her front pocket, Yaz pulled out her wallet. She withdrew a few notes and tucked them into the waistband of JJ’s trousers. “More where that comes from. If you do well.”

JJ grinned something fierce. Yaz sank back onto the sofa and JJ leaned over her and pushed her knees apart, maintaining eye contact the whole time. She slid her hands up Yaz’s thighs and Yaz took out another note, folded it, and held it between her teeth with one eyebrow raised. Taking the cue, JJ closed her lips around the note. She dragged it free with a scratch of paper and their lips ghosted together for just a millisecond. Once upon a time, Yaz would have resented how hard her heart kicked at that. Now, it was a rush. 

Everything JJ did, big or small, never failed to get a reaction out of Yaz. JJ exhilarated her. Calmed her. Elevated her. Brought her back down to Earth. A paradox Yaz once feared would tear her sky apart. On the contrary, it was more accurate to say it stitched her universe back together with sutures of untearable silk. Yaz felt untouchable when she was with JJ. Everlasting.

After blowing the note out of her mouth and onto the sofa, JJ put her hands on Yaz’s shoulders and climbed onto her lap. Yaz lifted her own hands to the tops of JJ’s thighs and her gaze drifted up and down her body. 

“Feels right, doesn’t it? Feels symmetrical,” remarked JJ, combing her fingers through Yaz’s loosely tied hair. 

Distracted, Yaz skimmed her fingers along the hem of JJ’s sports bra. “What does?”

“This. We met all that time ago, right here, and everythin’ was so uncertain. We had no idea what was comin’ for us. All I knew when I looked at you was that y’were like nobody I’d ever known. That I needed you. I dunno what you thought when you saw me—”

“Looked like dinner on a plate, babe. Still do.”

JJ smiled. “I felt it right at the beginning. Like the moment our eyes met, my whole world was gonna change forever. And it has. Look.” JJ trailed her fingertips down the side of Yaz’s face and Yaz looked up at her. “If I’d known back then everythin’ we were gonna go through, all the hurt and pining and all that agony, I’d do it all again in a heartbeat — every last teardrop — s’long as I knew we’d still end up right here. This makes it all worth it.” 

Yaz tilted her head. “And where is ‘right here’, JJ?”

“D’you trust me, Yasmin?”

“Yes,” said Yaz. She didn’t even have to think about it.

“Then that’s where we are.”

Yaz was still reeling from how quickly she’d proffered an answer when JJ tilted her chin up and kissed her — in all likelihood an effort to keep her out of her head. When their lips separated, JJ’s eyes were luminous with debauchery. In the spirit of keeping things symmetrical, JJ looked down at her sports bra and then back up at Yaz.

“Do the honours?”

* * *

Backstage, Yaz paced her dressing room. 

She held the phone to her ear with one hand. With the other, she adjusted the dark red beanie on top of her head for the dozenth time. It was part of the costume. Her character was a bit of a slob; a lone twin grieving her brother’s death. Yaz could see herself in parts of her character. Bad at change, at growing up and moving on; stubborn; quick to anger. But, at her heart, she was just lonely and scared and in need of a shove in the right direction. It made playing her infinitely easier, and yet she couldn’t help how totally sodden with nerves she was. Matters weren’t made any easier by the fact that JJ wasn’t there. 

“ _I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it, Yaz_ ,” she said. “ _Y’know I’d love nothin’ more than to be there to support you right now._ ”

“It’s fine, babe,” lied Yaz. She’d been banking on having JJ’s ever-encouraging face in the audience. Something to anchor her. Relax her. But JJ had received an urgent call a couple of days earlier — something to do with faulty foundations and problem developers — and she’d had to fly out to Paris that night. “They needed you. It’s not your fault.”

JJ grumbled something incoherent on the other line. “ _How are you feelin’, anyway? Excited_?”

Yaz stopped pacing and leaned against the desk at her vanity. She sighed. “I dunno. I just — I’ve never performed in front of this many people before.”

“ _Just picture me in the front row. Smiling. Waving. Cheering you on_ ,” advised JJ. “ _I’m there, Yasmin. I’m right there with you. You’re gonna kill it._ ”

“When are you home?” asked Yaz, chewing her thumbnail. 

“ _Soon. Sooner than you know. Promise._ ”

“No offence, JJ, but sometimes I hate how successful you are.” At that, JJ chuckled on the other line. Yaz couldn’t hear her response over the sound of a runner knocking on the door, poking his head around it, and giving her the five minute sign. She waved him away. “I’ve gotta go. Curtain’s up in five.”

“Y _eah, I should get goin’ as well_ ,” JJ said in a tone heavy with regret. _“I love you so much, Yaz. Break a leg up there, yeah_?”

“Thanks, babe.”

“ _See you soon, ladybird_.”

“Yeah. See you, JJ.” Yaz paused. “I, um… I miss you.”

Yaz could as good as _hear_ JJ’s resultant smile through the phone. “ _I miss you too. Always do_.”

By the time Yaz was in position behind the curtain, sitting in the pitch dark of a shed whose fourth wall was missing to expose her to the waiting audience, her anxiety was at an all time high. Give her strobe lights, glitter, and almost-nudity any day. That was a piece of cake. Her audience wasn't much the critical type. But this? Somehow, even in all her layers, Yaz felt more naked up there than she ever had in the club. And nobody could even see her yet. 

The lights in the theatre dimmed. 

The room fell silent.

The curtain parted. 

Briefly blinded by a harsh white spotlight, it took a moment for Yaz’s eyes to adjust. When they did, this is what she saw: a modest theatre halled packed to the brim — every seat in every circle occupied and hundreds of pairs of eyes trained squarely on her, props littered about around her (rickety shed walls, tatty sofa bed, makeshift desk, laptop, a papier-mâché rocket), and JJ. Right there on the front row, on the seat she’d reserved weeks ago, was JJ. Beaming. Her shit-eating grin out-dazzled even the spotlights. 

Yaz’s first thought upon picking her out of the crowd was, _I’m gonna kill her._ But her second thought was far more mollifying. _Okay then,_ she told herself. _You’ve got JJ; you’ve got everything you need. You’ve got this._

Yaz took a breath and the show began. 

* * *

Veins buzzing like live wires, Yaz returned to her dressing room on a post-show high. The audience’s effusive applause still rang in her ears and, try as she might, she couldn’t bite back her giddy smile. A smooth show and a standing ovation — kicked off, of course, by JJ. 

Yaz tore the beanie from her head and tossed it onto the vanity, catching her eye in the mirror and briefly failing to recognise her own reflection. Who was that girl radiating joy so freely? Who was the girl behind the costume, chasing her dreams and unzipping her heart and carving a path out of the lonely wasteland she once thought she’d die in? It was the first time that Yaz properly found herself acknowledging that yes, she was changing. Constantly and in small ways. She was changing, and she kind of liked the person she was becoming. 

There was a soft knock on the door. 

Yaz opened it to reveal JJ standing on the other side, holding a bouquet of roses and sunflowers and dressed to the nines in an overly formal getup for such a low key theatre. Head ducked shyly, she cast a playful smile towards Yaz.

“Hiya, Ya—!”

Yaz pulled JJ inside by her jacket and slammed the door using her body. She kissed JJ without restraint; kissed her like moderation was but a fantasy. The bouquet fell soundlessly from JJ’s hands and she wrapped them instead around Yaz’s waist. Like that, her shyness evaporated. She kissed Yaz back with wanton vigor, but that didn’t stop her lips from stretching into the widest of smiles against Yaz’s own. Only when they both were smiling too hard to continue did their kiss reach its denouement. 

Lips parted but bodies stayed pressed flush. JJ swiped her thumb across Yaz’s lips and beamed. “Gota ya, didn’t I?” 

“I can’t believe I fell for it,” rued Yaz with a shake of her head. “When did you get back?”

“Just then. Came straight here from the airport. Y’didn’t think I were ever seriously gonna miss your big debut, did you? And by the way,” JJ continued, dropping her voice an octave, “you were phenomenal up there. I couldn’t breathe for the whole thing. Honest. You killed it, Yasmin. I’ve booked seats for every show after this too.”

Yaz halted. “Every single one?”

“Yep. Front row in all of ‘em. I’ve a strong feelin’ it’s only gonna get better and better. The only part I weren’t particularly fond of was watchin’ you snog that man. Didn’t understand what we’re so great about him. He’s not all that,” grumbled JJ. She wrinkled her nose and Yaz laughed and kissed it. 

“Yeah, I don’t much like that scene either. But look.” Yaz hooked her finger around the thin silver chain around her neck and pulled the ladybird pendant free from under her layers. “I was thinking of you the whole time.”

JJ’s grimace dissipated and she touched a finger to the necklace. She looked up and the corners of her eyes creased as she regarded Yaz with unfettered adoration. “You were wearin’ that the whole time up there?”

“I was.”

Draping her arms around Yaz’s shoulders, JJ bumped their foreheads and the tips of their noses knocked together. She gazed at Yaz and hummed dreamily. “I’m the luckiest person alive,” she murmured.

“Actually, Jamie,” smiled Yaz, “I think you’ll find that’s me.” 

JJ deliberated this with pursed lips. “All right, yeah, you did kinda luck out with me,” she granted with a cocksure shrug. “But I s’pose I’m a close second.”

Yaz rolled her eyes and gave JJ a half-hearted shove, but when she sighed a playful, “I hate you,” and leaned in to recapture her lips, it felt more like an admission of the opposite.

* * *

It was the tail end of November when Yaz was finally able to make good on her promise to take JJ away. As expected, JJ was a nightmare when she wasn’t the one taking on all the responsibilities. 

“Are you sure we can’t take my jet?”

“We’re driving, babe.”

“Oh. I don’t mind driving.”

“No, I’m driving.”

“Well, you can use my car.”

“I’m using mine.”

“I can pay for the petrol.”

“Already got a full tank.”

“Ugh. Isn’t there _anything_ I can do?”

“How about you be in charge of road trip snacks?”

“Oh, on it! Custard creams?”

“Sure.”

“Strawberry laces?”

“If you like.”

“Bourbons?”

“You better not get biscuit crumbs all over my new car, babe.”

“Cross my heart.”

She did get crumbs all over the passenger seat, but Yaz tried not to hold it against her. It was hard to stay mad at her when, every time Yaz looked over, JJ was all but bouncing in her seat with excitement. She kept trying to figure out where Yaz was taking her but Yaz was giving nothing away. The road trip wasn’t long at all — and yet JJ had all the patience of a kid on their way to Disneyland. 

“Are we almost there?”

“We’ve not even been in the car for thirty minutes.”

“Can you give me a clue where we’re goin’?”

“No. Oh, don’t pout at me.”

“But, Yaz!”

“Just — turn the radio on, all right?”

“Fine.”

“...You are gonna change the channel, aren’t you?”

“What’s wrong with this?”

“I just didn’t have you down as a _Vengaboys_ fan, babe.” 

“This is a tune!”

“And this is gonna be the longest two hours of my life.”

“Ooh, two hours? That narrows it down.”

“Put the map away.”

“But—”

“Away.”

“I hate it when you’re in charge.”

“Think we both know that’s a lie, don’t we, JJ?”

“ _Yaz_.”

It was the middle of the afternoon when they arrived. The car wound through a thick forest and onto private land, where the trees thinned out only partly to reveal glimpses of a colossal lake running parallel to the road. Tarmac gave way to a muddy, gravelly pathway and Yaz slowed the car down to a crawl as she navigated her way through the fast darkening woods to the tune of JJ’s thousand and one questions. 

Yaz switched the radio off as they rolled onto the wide driveway of a secluded log cabin overlooking the lake. The cabin was elevated on stilts and had two floors; it was an impressive structure of light wood and glass. A wraparound patio bordered the first floor, sheltered from the elements by the overhead balcony leading from the sliding doors of the master bedroom. 

Stacked by the side of the house was a large pile of firewood, right by an axe left buried in the severed trunk of a tree. The garden furniture and BBQ grill on the decking had been individually tarped, but one corner of the material flapped in the breeze to reveal the underside of a pallet chair.

The lake itself was quiet. The water was not blue or black but white and grey beneath the tapestry of swirling clouds above. It rippled softy. An abandoned canoe, tied to a short pier at the bottom of the bank, bobbed gaily on the surface. The moment Yaz opened the car door and stepped outside onto a thin blanket of damp leaves, the dial turned way up on the cacophony of their surroundings. Insects screamed from the trees and hovered over the lake, the wind whistled between the leaves; a bird bathing in the water splashed an accompaniment to the noise. 

Yaz heard the passenger door close and turned to gauge JJ, whose wide eyes swept across the scene and alluded to a subdued kind of wonder. When her gaze at last landed on Yaz, there was a broad smile on her face. “I love it! You rented this place for the whole weekend?” 

“Um. No.” Yaz stuffed her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket and chewed her lip as she craned her neck to look up at the cabin. “Actually, I bought it.”

“What?” JJ whirled on the spot to face Yaz. 

“Yeah. I mean, I had all this money saved up for my own place but then you went and decided to go build me a home — which I’m still so grateful for — but I thought maybe I could do something else with the money.” Yaz took a slow step closer to JJ. “You get stressed at work all the time. Sometimes I need to run away from life. I figured why not create a small getaway for us both? Close to home. Where we can disappear together when the world gets a bit much.”

JJ stared at Yaz. “You bought this… for us? For me and you? Together?”

Yaz slipped her cold hands beneath JJ’s warm pea coat and nodded. “I might not be able to build you a home, but I can buy you an escape.”

Mouth opening and closing, JJ’s pupils bounced between the lake and the trees and the cabin. “I can’t — I can’t let you buy this. It’s not fair. That’s your money. You earned it.”

“Exactly. I earned it, so I get to decide what to do with it.” Yaz rehomed JJ’s wandering eyes when she delicately cupped her jaw. “Babe, I know you’re used to being the giver in this relationship, but that’s not fair to you. Relationships are meant to be equal. Give and take. I’ve taken a lot from you.”

The cleft between JJ’s brows broadened. “I don’t see it like that.”

“But it’s a fact. I’m not complaining, and I’m not telling you to stop, or change, I’m just tryna do more for you. You get that, right?”

JJ wrapped her fingers around the hand Yaz was holding her jaw with and brought it up to her cool lips. “I appreciate this so much, Yasmin, but I haven’t done anythin’ to deserve it. And I haven’t got you anythin’. If I’d known—”

“Jesus, Jamie,” laughed Yaz. “You really don’t know how to accept a gift, do you?” 

“I’m just confused.”

“‘Cause I’ve never done anything like this for you before?”

“Because nobody has.” 

Yaz’s face fell. The earnestness behind JJ’s eyes made her throat tight and she released a melancholy sigh. “Well, allow me to change that. It’ll be different from now on, JJ. I’ll be better. I promise.” 

“Better?” frowned JJ. “Yaz, you’re already perfect.” 

“Only you would think that, babe.” Yaz ran a fingertip from the top of JJ’s hairline to the swell of her cheekbone. “You let me get away with the bare minimum ‘case you love me so much, but I should be doing more. If anyone deserves the world, it’s you. You deserve my effort. You deserve to be spoiled. Treated with kindness. Made to feel like you’re at the centre of someone’s universe.”

JJ lifted her brows. “And am I?”

“Are you what?”

“At the centre of your universe?”

Yaz took a deep breath and filled her lungs with crisp, clean air free from pollution and muggy reality. The next words she spoke felt light on her tongue. “For the next couple of days, babe,” she said, touching her lips to JJ’s cheek, “you _are_ my universe.” 

JJ grinned. “Thought I were the cheesy one?”

“Well, if no one’s around to hear it…”

“Maybe I’ll tell ‘em.”

“No one’s _ever_ gonna believe I said that. Good luck tryna convince ‘em though”

“That’s cold.”

“Know what’s colder?”

“What?”

“Hear my soul speak: the very instant that I saw you, did my heat fly to your service.”

“I — are you reciting _Shakespeare_ to me? But you hate that!”

“And if anyone asks, I’ll deny I ever did it.”

“Yasmin Khan, you are twisted… and I’m kinda really into you right now.” 

“Should we get inside?”

“Yes please.” 

* * *

Later that night, in the dim lamplight of a cosy kitchen, Yaz cooked for JJ. 

She gave JJ small jobs to do that, while impossible to mess up, at least made her feel as though she was helping. When she lacked for jobs, she got in the way: wrapping her arms around Yaz from behind, kissing her neck, pulling away to juggle the tomatoes and make a mess, then reattaching herself to Yaz’s body to abashedly seek forgiveness once the mess had been cleaned. Yaz wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

A rich aroma of spices and garlic and butter settled sweetly in the room whilst they ate at the dinner table, talking and making jokes and flirting and catching one another up on their respective weeks. JJ revealed that she’d recently had a plot of land approved for construction, and that soon they’d be breaking ground on Yaz’s dream home. 

Yaz always felt strange when JJ so casually brought up the fact she was building a home for her. Stranger still when Yaz tried to imagine what was going to happen when it was complete. She’d been out of sorts when she’d designed it, and had done so under the impression that JJ would be there to share it with her. JJ had never once insinuated that she expected Yaz to uphold to that once the house was finished, but could Yaz really imagine living there without her? She wasn’t sure. 

Once their plates were clean, they donned their winter coats over sweatshirts and joggers and walked down to the lake, each with a glass of wine in hand. Yaz had been hoping to see the stars, but the clouds had thickened, leaning heavy on the shoulders of the trees. They came to a stop at the end of the small pier and sat down side by side. Yaz sipped her wine and JJ looped her arm through Yaz’s, kicking her feet off the edge of the platform. 

“Still can’t believe you did all this,” confessed JJ. “Thought I were the best at romantic gestures but I might have to up my game a bit.” 

“Nah, this were long overdue.” Yaz leaned back and glanced at JJ out of the corner of her eye. “You’re always so loud with your love, Jamie. So bloody loud. I adore that, but I also know it must be tough for you. My way of showing affection is a lot quieter, so it probably seems like I don’t care as much, but that’s not true. I just wanted to make sure you knew it, ‘cause the last thing I want is to lose you.” 

“Lose me?” JJ afforded Yaz an incredulous look. 

“My therapist sort of made me realise that, if I really do like you as much as I know I do, I should want more for you than I’ve actually been offering. Because if not, I’d want you to do better than me,” disclosed Yaz. JJ opened her mouth to interject but Yaz held a finger to her lips. “No, I know you don’t like to complain, but if you ever start feeling like I’m not doing enough for you, or if you start to doubt how much I care, promise you’ll tell me, and I’ll change that in a second. I’m trying, but I won’t always get it right. So I need you to help me, JJ. Okay?”

JJ studied Yaz’s face for a time and then nodded slowly, peeling Yaz’s finger from her lip that she might talk. “If it helps, ladybird, you’re doin’ brilliantly right now.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. I’m really, really happy here with you.” JJ looked out across the water and smiled. “Feels like we’re the only two people in the world, doesn’t it? It’s so calm.”

Indeed, now that JJ mentioned it, Yaz realised that the wind had stopped, the water had gone still, even the buzz of insects had ceased for the time being. It _was_ calm — so why was it making her so uneasy? 

“Oh, I almost forgot!” JJ reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the torn off page of a magazine. She handed it to Yaz, who saw that a small article had been circled. “Have you seen this?”

Yaz turned her phone’s flashlight on and inspected the article. It was a review of the play she’d starred in, whose run had only just ended. Yaz hadn’t realised there would be critics present — and yet, sure as day, she was holding a critique in her hands. Her stomach pretzeled. She skimmed through the review, pupils darting frantically across the page, and held her breath until the very last word. She finished reading it, blinked, and then went back to read it again to be sure she hadn’t read it wrong the first time. 

Beside her, JJ laughed. “You’re readin’ it right, Yaz. Memorised it myself to be sure.” To prove her point, JJ then went on to regurgitate some of the key points in the article. “‘An outstanding performance from a fresh new face’ — that’s you! — ‘who played the lead role of the tragically independent woman with a secret heart of gold so convincingly that, at the crest of her performance, there wasn’t a dry eye in the theatre’. He’s right about that. I sobbed like a baby. Did you see the end bit? ‘Hopefully, Miss Khan will be gracing our stages again in many productions to come’. They even called you one to watch! Yaz, they loved you!”

Yaz lowered the page, face slack with shock. “I… where did you find this?”

“In some prestigious theatre magazine. I bought a copy of, like, every single magazine lookin’ for a review.”

“Shit,” muttered Yaz. 

“Next stop, the Oscars, eh?”

“You can’t win an Oscar for a theatre performance, babe,” said Yaz — but her spirits were soaring. 

“I wouldn’t put it past you to make history.” JJ coiled her arm tighter around Yaz’s and bumped her shoulder. “Everything’s comin’ up Yasmin.”

Yaz looked at JJ. “Has been since I met you.” Realistically, Yaz knew she likely never would have had the courage to leave the club and pursue an old dream she’d left to gather dust in the basement of her heart without JJ’s unwavering, vocal support. “You don’t know what you’ve done for me, JJ. Really.”

“Got nowt to do with me,” denied JJ. “I weren’t the one up there on that stage.”

“It’s got everything to do with you.” Yaz set her wine glass down and angled herself towards JJ. “You don’t know how I saw myself until you came along. I was resigned to just let whatever happened to me happen. I didn’t think I was worth anything. Didn’t think there was anything good left to see or to have. As far as I was concerned, the world was shit and my clock was ticking.”

“Your clock — what does that mean?” asked JJ, genuinely puzzled. 

Yaz dropped her gaze. “To be honest, I was only living for an old promise I made. But it’s an _old_ promise, and the longer time went on, the less I felt obliged to keep it.” 

“I see.” Ever-so-tender, JJ lifted Yaz’s chin with the knuckle of her index finger and sought out her atypically shy eyes. “And now?”

“And now I can’t imagine ever wanting to leave the world behind. Not while you’re in it.”

JJ swallowed. “Yasmin…”

“I like who I am when I’m with you, Jamie. And even on the days when I don’t, you love me enough for both of us.” Yaz’s every word sounded brittle, as if any of them might break at a moment’s notice. “I can never thank you enough for that, ‘cause I really have no idea what I did to deserve someone like you.”

Apparently at a loss for words, a dewy-eyed JJ touched her fingers to Yaz’s neck and leaned in to kiss her. Yaz exhaled shakily against JJ’s lips. She honed in on the solid press of them, on the subtle, lingering flavour of garlic and spices, and let all those homely senses tether her to stability. 

“We do make a great team, don’t we?” JJ mused when they both sat back. 

“Wouldn’t wanna be on it with anyone else.”

“Me neither.” Leaning back on her palms, JJ sighed happily and turned her head towards the sky. “Every time I look at you, Yaz, I see a whole future. But it’s — I mean, there are endless possibilities, y’know? Not just one future, but loads. More than I can count. Me and you, it’s like infinity. That’s what I see when I look at you, ladybird. Infinity. D’you ever feel like that, or am I makin’ no sense at all?”

The truth was, JJ was making perfect sense.

There were so many things Yaz had, in the past, convinced herself she never wanted. The very same things she now entertained as potential futures by JJ’s side. Sometimes, Yaz would catch herself daydreaming about doing the most mundane things with JJ: owning a dog and playing fetch with it in the park, greeting JJ with a kiss at the front door of their own place when she walked in after a long day, decorating a shared bedroom and ending up in a messy paint fight, listening to her vent about work over breakfast, taking her on impromptu dates, leaving parties early to go home and be alone in one another’s company. 

Ordinary things. 

Things she once would have turned her nose up at. But with JJ, the ordinary became inexplicably extraordinary. Fantastical. She wanted it all and, for the first time, her want was overpowering her fear of wanting. Had it not then started to rain, she might well have voiced all that. 

It began slowly. A few fat droplets pattered onto the boards of the pier, splashed into the lake, tracked down Yaz’s cheek like tears. Between one heartbeat and the next, the sky tore itself asunder. A torrential rain was unleashed without warning upon the lakeside, and then the howling, biting wind encroached upon them like a pack of invisible wolves. It took mere seconds for them to become drenched through and through. 

“Crap,” cursed JJ. She sprang to her feet and offered Yaz her hand, sodden hair whipping her face and cheeks turning bright pink. 

Yaz picked up her wine glass and took JJ’s hand, allowing her to pull her to her feet. JJ started down the pier and Yaz was about to follow when the sky lit up brilliant white and illuminated every tree, pebble, leaf, dragonfly, midge, and spider web for a fraction of a second. Then, as if a switch flicked, the world was plunged back into the pitch dark of night with only the warm orange windows of the cabin up the hill to guide their way. 

_No,_ thought Yaz. _Not here. Not now._

Her prayers went unheard. 

Thunder broke a second later. 

Frozen beneath a falling sky, Yaz’s heart slithered up her throat. She choked a years old terror into her lungs as if it were ash and, when she opened her mouth to call JJ’s name, all that blew out of her mouth was smoke. 


	12. songbirds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as promised this chap is mostly smut (and the rest is just nauseatingly soft) so do enjoy x

Yaz stopped dead with trembling hands; the sting of the cold sliced straight through her flesh and struck the core of her shaking bones. 

Another flash of lightning lit up every lash of rain and, for a blinding moment, she swore she was standing on the side of that highway — was that wind or traffic? Windows or headlights? If she took a step forward would it all be over? Again, a monstrous clap of thunder. Yaz clenched her glass so tight it broke in her hands. She didn’t register the pain; couldn’t feel the blood flowing freely from her palm or the shard of glass embedded in her skin. 

“Yaz?” At the end of the pier, JJ turned and peeled her hair out of her face, squinting at Yaz. “Are you okay? Come on, let’s get inside!”

Motionless and voiceless, all Yaz could manage was to fix her eyes on JJ in a silent plea: _help._ Something in JJ’s face changed. She strode back across the pier and, when she saw the state of Yaz’s hand, her pace increased exponentially.

“Yaz, what happened?” she shouted over the screaming storm, picking Yaz’s hand up and staining her pale skin red. She plucked a shard of glass from Yaz’s hand and tossed it into the lake. “Christ, this is really deep. Does it hurt? Can you move your hand? Yaz? Baby?”

“Jamie,” rasped Yaz. Every other word in her vocabulary had abandoned her.

“Right. Okay,” said JJ — and it looked like she understood. Maybe not totally, but enough to put her arm around Yaz and guide her back up the steps towards the lodge, holding her wounded hand carefully as they went and being excruciatingly patient with Yaz. Never hurrying her. Never pushing her. 

JJ closed the door behind them when they reached the cabin, but it did little to lessen the awful boom of thunder or diminish the onslaught of rain hammering the windows and rooftops. Yaz hated that she never outgrew this ridiculous fear of thunderstorms; hated that it paralysed her so entirely. She felt a fool for it. A child. It’s not like anything even happened back then. Not really. She had no right to react this way every time she got caught up in a storm. But thoughts like that didn’t ease her strife in the slightest. 

Without pressing Yaz for an explanation, JJ walked her to the kitchen sink and rinsed her hand under the faucet. Yaz watched her blood circle the drain. She didn’t flinch when JJ took to painstakingly plucking every splinter of glass from her palm, but she did flinch when thunder broke directly over the house — stumbling right into JJ’s front with a quivering jaw. JJ whipped the tweezers away from Yaz’s hand to avoid causing further damage. 

“Easy, Yaz. It’s alright,” crooned JJ. “I’m gonna go find some bandages, okay? D’you wanna come with me or are you okay here?”

Yaz just shook her head. JJ wasn’t gone long but, by the time she returned, Yaz was sitting on the sofa in the living room with her knees pulled up to her chest and her eyes closed. The sofa dipped when JJ sat down next to her, took her hand, and began to bandage it — taking the utmost care not to hurt Yaz. Once she was done, JJ kissed her knuckles and then let her go. 

“You don’t like thunderstorms?” she presumed. Yaz didn’t say anything. She was so embarrassed. More than that, she was terrified. “Yeah, me neither. They spook the daylights out of me.”

Another break of thunder. 

Yaz jumped.

“Right, wait here,” said JJ. She got up, closed all the curtains, turned on the portable speaker they’d brought with them to drown out the noise, and then returned to the sofa with a _Fleetwood Mac_ song playing. Yaz closed her eyes and listened. 

_For you, there’ll be no more crying_

_For you, the sun will be shining_

Oh, how she wished. 

Each of JJ’s touches were featherlight and careful when she sat against the armrest and helped Yaz to lean back against her until she was sitting between JJ’s legs; cocooned in JJ’s arms. JJ held her close, and her arms tightened around Yaz’s stomach every time she flinched. 

_‘Cause I know that when I’m with you_

_It’s alright, I know it’s right_

Yaz saw it coming when, coinciding with a harsh crack of lightning, every light in the cabin went out and darkness flooded in — but that didn’t make it any more bearable. 

“Well. I’ll go and start a fire, should I?” Except when JJ made as if to peel away from Yaz and head for the hearth opposite the sofa, Yaz dug her fingers tightly into her forearms to stop her. “Oh.”

“Sorry, I—”

“Don’t be sorry. I won’t move a muscle. We can just stay like this ‘til it’s over, okay? We’ll keep each other warm,” proposed JJ, and Yaz nodded her assent. JJ kissed the back of Yaz’s neck and then rested her chin atop her shoulder. 

_And I wish you all the love in the world_

_But most of all, I wish it from myself_

“Wanna hear a joke?” asked JJ. 

“I guess.”

“What d’you call a cow with two legs?”

Yaz shrugged.

“Lean beef!”

“God, that’s terrible,” groaned Yaz.

“Wanna hear another?”

“Babe—”

“What’s the best time to go to the dentist?” asked JJ. Then, too keen to wait for a response, “Tooth-hurtie!”

Yaz let slip an undignified snort and held her fist to her mouth to stifle her laughter. She settled deeper into JJ’s warm body and looked up at the silhouette of her face, cloaked in shadow but a comfort nevertheless. “By the way, did I hear wrong before, or did you call me baby? By the lake?”

JJ paused to remember. “Um. Yeah, I think I did. Just sorta came out when I were worried about you. Did you not like it?”

“Try it again?”

Lips grazing the shell of Yaz’s ear, JJ whispered a cool, “I love you, baby,” and Yaz felt goosebumps rise across every inch of her skin. JJ laughed quietly and without cruelty. “You just turned really warm.”

“Don’t,” warned Yaz.

“Sorry.”

Yaz squeezed JJ’s thigh lightly just as a shock of white light bled through the gaps in the curtains, precursing another enraged bellow from the heavens. Clamping her eyes shut, Yaz took a deep breath. “Tell me another joke.”

“Hmm. All right, how did the penguin build his house?”

“Enlighten me.”

“Iglood it together!”

Yaz blew out her cheeks. “Christ, where do you even _find_ these?”

“Wait, I’ve got another one. Why don’t oysters donate to charity?”

“Because they’re shellfish.”

“Aw, you knew that one?” JJ tutted. “Okay, not to worry, I’ve got tonnes! Ready? This one’s gonna have you in stitches.”

Each of JJ’s jokes was worse than the last, but it got to the point where they were so bad they were genuinely funny — more so given the enthusiastic nature of JJ’s delivery. At times, JJ would be laughing too hard to get to the punchline, a tears-streaming-down-her-face kind of laugh, and Yaz couldn’t help but become infected by it whenever that happened. In time, amidst the music and JJ’s sure embrace and her contagious laughter, it became easier to drown out the storm. Or, at least, to drown out the memories the storm evoked.

Yaz wasn’t sure when or how it happened — she hadn’t slept through a thunderstorm in years — but eventually, the steady rise and fall of JJ’s chest against her back and the familiar safety of her ever-dependable arms lulled her into an easy slumber. 

The last thing she felt before succumbing to the heavy pull of unconsciousness was JJ’s lips on her temple. 

_And the songbirds keep singing, like they know the score_

_And I love you, I love you, I love you_

_Like never before._

* * *

Sweet smoke and the hiss and crack of burning firewood lured Yaz from the depths of a hazy dream she forgot the details of the moment she peeled her eyes open. 

It was the middle of the night. If the clock on the mantel hadn’t told her as much, the lack of natural light and the shadows leaping up the walls at the behest of the animated fire burning in the rustic hearth would have. Yaz’s skin was flushed with it. Initially, her heart sank upon realising that she was no longer enveloped in JJ’s steadfast embrace; that she was sleeping alone on the sofa. But then, in the open doorway across the room, she picked out JJ’s silhouette. She had her back to Yaz.

Rubbing her tired eyes, Yaz sat up and half-noticed that she’d been stripped of her damp coat, shoes, and socks, and that a thick shawl had been draped over her. In the heat of the fire, and beneath the dry comfort of the blanket, the November frost had thawed from her bones. 

Yaz swung her legs over the side of the sofa and got to her feet, padding across the wooden boards towards JJ. She stretched her arms above her head as she approached. “Babe?” she yawned, pulling a bobble from around her wrist and tying her dishevelled hair into a loose pony. 

JJ spun. When she saw Yaz, she greeted her with a wide, toothy grin and held a hand out for her. “Yaz! Come and look!” No sooner did Yaz’s fingertips graze JJ’s than JJ seized her hand and pulled her onto the mat in front of the threshold, nodding her head towards the view beyond the porch. Yaz followed her gaze, and sharply exhaled her disbelief.

Above a black lake, still as death herself, shone the midnight moon. Smudged and milky behind a breath of mist it might have been, but not even that hampered the magnificence of its size and glory. Every crater a valley of pale light; every imperfect edge perfectly mirrored in the water below. Its radiance spanned the width of the lake, forging an intangible, luminous bridge between the two opposing banks. Spindly trees, featureless and dark, clawed towards its majesty with brittle talons. None came close. Both the lake and surrounding forest alike glowed something eerie; even the lone canoe at the bottom of the hill adopted an unearthly sheen. 

Like heavy drapes, the clouds had parted not just for the moon but for the stars. Here, where the city was far and nature was an undeniable force, they shone as unmined jewels did: bewitchingly and in secret. It certainly felt like a secret. It felt like nobody else anywhere on the planet could be looking upon the same constellations she and JJ presently were, because this patch of sky was their own. This corner of the world belonged only to them. 

The stars, the moon; every swaying tree and dewy blade of grass; every frost-petalled wildflower and chirping cricket; every last drop of crystalline water for as far as the eye could see — it was all theirs. Nirvana. Population: two.

“The storm’s passed,” whispered JJ. “And just look at it, ladybird. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

But then Yaz’s eyes fell over JJ. The woman who held her through her terror without judgement, who managed to make her laugh when the seasons of her temperamental heart fluctuated without warning; who took her wet socks off for her while she slept so she wouldn’t catch a cold. Yaz had never before trusted someone’s love so entirely. “Yeah,” she agreed, staring openly at JJ. “It’s perfect.”

Perhaps picking up on the faraway undercurrent to Yaz’s tone, JJ turned her head. When she saw Yaz watching her so closely, her cheeks turned rosy and she smiled humbly. Yaz wove their fingers together and smiled.

The next words she said didn’t fall clumsily from her mouth. They weren’t a product of this one single moment; they weren’t spoken rashly or without consideration. They’d been teetering there on the tip of her tongue for an age. They’d been pounding on the backs of her teeth with closed fists and begging Yaz to introduce them to the glorious light of day. JJ had told her once, the first time they visited the top of the Eiffel Tower, that someday Yaz would look at her and just know. Initially, Yaz hadn’t understood what she meant by that.

But, right then, she just knew. 

“I love you, Jamie.” 

JJ’s lips parted and her hand slackened against Yaz’s. In the moonlight, the startled whites of her eyes shone like pearls. “Sorry?” she breathed.

“I said I love you,” repeated Yaz. She stepped up to JJ with a broad stroke of sadness in her otherwise adoring eyes, because how cruel of Yaz to make her wait so long to hear it again. How selfish of her to accept every ounce of JJ’s abundant, unconditional love whilst holding her own hostage. Looking at JJ now, in the quiet of their dark, wintry paradise, it seemed impossible that Yaz hadn’t known it from the first night; from the first kiss; from the first meeting of eyes — because all she saw when she looked back was love. It tinted every memory blush pink and sunrise yellow. “I love you so much, babe. I’m an idiot for waiting this long to tell you sober. I don’t even have a good excuse, ‘cause look at you. How could I not love you? You’re not just the best person I’ve ever met, you’re more than that. You’re _it,_ JJ. You’re everything to me. God, you really are.” 

Stunned, JJ blinked and a solitary tear ran down her cheek. Yaz lifted a hand and caught it with her thumb, giving her girlfriend — the woman she was dangerously in love with — a tender once over. JJ’s soft, blonde hair had dried wavy and unkempt, her white T-shirt was creased where Yaz had slept against her, and her firelit eyes were shining with joy and tears and fierce devotion. Yaz thought she just might burn in the light of it. Or else flourish. 

She chose to flourish. 

She chose faith, and she chose risk, and she chose tonight as the night she stopped running for good. Once again, Yaz chose JJ. She thought she would for the rest of her life.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” JJ quivered. 

Ashamed, Yaz cast her eyes down and fixed them on the drawstrings of JJ’s joggers — which had been tied into a perfect bow. “I’m sorry.”

“Yaz, I’m not sayin’ it to make you feel bad. Look at me,” prompted JJ, waiting for Yaz to lift her gaze before continuing. “You weren’t ready to say it then, and I understood that. But you weren’t ready ‘cause you were stuck. Lost. You weren’t lettin’ any love in _or_ out, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t think of anythin’ worse for you than a loveless life. So you wanna know why I’m so overjoyed to hear you finally say those words to me, Yasmin?” 

“Why?”

JJ’s respondent smile stretched from ear to ear. “‘Cause now you’re found.” With that, she cupped Yaz’s face and kissed her hard and fast. 

Yaz laughed and curled her fingers into the soft cotton of JJ’s shirt. Sure enough, upon that initial press of lips so eager they landed a little left of centre at first, Yaz no longer felt herself to be an aimless wanderer; a lone traveller. Her solace was instantaneous. With JJ as her compass — her north star — she made her way safely along that infinite country road she’d been stranded on for so long. 

She followed it all the way home. 

Hands clutched at faces and hips and clothes as they kissed, and it soon became evident that even the thin layers of fabric separating their naked bodies was too much. JJ hooked her foot around the door and kicked it shut. The wooden walls were still reverberating with the slam when Yaz started to blindly tug JJ backwards towards the sofa, refusing to relent from their torrid kiss or even bother to open their eyes when Yaz’s legs hit the sofa and she fell backwards onto it. JJ landed right on top of her. Neither of them made a single sign that they’d acknowledged the impact. They could have been upside down, they could have been levitating, the cabin could have been burning down around them, and they wouldn’t have noticed for how totally engrossed in the taste, touch, hunger of one another they were. 

JJ kissed Yaz for so long that Yaz began to wonder if she planned to do anything else. She wouldn’t have minded either way. If JJ was content to kiss or cuddle or play scrabble until the sun came up, Yaz wouldn’t dream of denying her. As it transpired, JJ had much different ideas. 

“Tell me what you want, Yaz,” she all but begged right into Yaz’s ear, breathy and desperate. Her hand was under Yaz’s jumper, and then her bra, and then she was working a nipple to stiffness between her fingers. Yaz sighed and thudded the back of her head against the armrest of the sofa. “Please. Tell me. I just wanna please you. Is this what you want?” JJ drove her knee up between Yaz’s legs and leaned all her weight into it. Yaz bit her lip, rutting her hips and indulging, for a moment, in the friction between her thighs. But that wasn’t what she needed. 

“No,” she said. She grazed her fingertips across JJ’s jaw and pulled on her bottom lip with her thumb. JJ’s mouth opened — an invitation — so Yaz pushed her thumb past her parted lips and along the wet curve of her tongue. She watched JJ edge her face forward until teeth grazed knuckle and nodded in approval. “This is what I want, JJ. Your mouth.”

When Yaz drew her hand back, her thumb came away slick with saliva. She kissed the very tip of it and looked up at JJ through thick lashes, close enough to discern the slightest of tremors in her jaw. Yaz knew her well enough by now to recognise that look when she saw it. It wasn’t just lust, it was greed. It was desire of a most insatiable manner. It was JJ wanting and wanting, and it was the unholy satisfaction of knowing that Yaz was offering precisely what she was wanting for. 

In a flash, JJ’s face broke out into the wild grin of a cat drunk on cream. Her keen hands fumbled for the waistband of Yaz’s bottoms as she shuffled backwards off her body.

“Easy, babe,” said Yaz. JJ froze and looked up with a question in her alarmingly dilated eyes. It was hard to make out the hazel for the black. “You wanna please me, yeah? ‘Cause I think I know exactly how you can do that.”

“Tell me,” JJ urged. Her voice was already so husky, and that alone was enough to create a welcome stir in Yaz’s loins. 

Yaz grabbed JJ by the ribbed collar of her shirt, pulled her down so abruptly they narrowly avoided a head-on collision, and let their lips hover a breath apart. JJ stared at Yaz’s mouth but didn’t chase it, only waited. Ever so obedient. Ever so good. Yaz held back a smirk, albeit poorly. Then, touching her lips to JJ’s without actually kissing her, she murmured a tantalising, “Get on your knees, Jamie.” 

“Fuck,” breathed JJ. Yaz watched her soul leave her body and didn’t bother mourning it. 

“And one more thing before you go.” Turning her head to the side, face aglow in the light of the thriving fire, Yaz tapped the side of her neck. “Leave a mark.” 

JJ stalled. “What? But — but you hate it when I leave marks.”

“I wasn’t allowed marks when I worked at the club. But I don’t anymore, do I?” Yaz stroked her middle finger along one of JJ’s lifted brows and then let her palm rest on her jaw. “And I kinda want the world to know I belong to someone. To you. Don’t you want that?”

“Yaz,” whispered JJ. Her face was a wide open book and, scrawled in manic script across every page, Yaz read the next words JJ uttered before she even opened her mouth. “I’m so fucking in love with you.” 

“I know,” smiled Yaz, because it was habit. But then followed a response she’d have to grow accustomed to voicing out loud. “I love you too.” 

JJ looked just as blown away at Yaz’s stone cold sober profession the second time as she had the first, as though she’d been expecting to have to wait another age or two before hearing it again. But JJ’s days of waiting and hoping, of being infinitely patient towards someone so infinitely undeserving, were over. Yaz was all hers, always. And she wanted to make sure JJ knew that. 

Starry-eyed, JJ nodded. “Okay,” she said quietly, and whether that was her way of accepting Yaz’s love, of convincing herself it was real, or a response to her prior request, Yaz couldn’t say with any certainty. 

Yaz turned her head again and, next thing, JJ descended upon the vulnerable map of veins and muscle and pulse unfurled beneath her jaw. She felt the tender impression of warm lips, and then the flat of JJ’s formidable tongue carving a path from shoulder to lobe. Finally, her teeth melted into Yaz’s flesh. Yaz grunted her pleasure and held JJ to her throat with a hand at the back of her head. 

It fast became apparent just how long JJ had been waiting to do this again. She attached herself to Yaz’s neck like a vampire, like she was after not the salt of her skin but the iron of her blood. No sooner was one mark made — and endowed with an almost apologetic kiss after — than JJ went in to leave another. Yaz knew she should stop her, knew JJ wouldn’t be able to keep herself from leaving Yaz a state, and yet something about that knowledge only exhilarated her more. It became all the more difficult to tell JJ no when she cupped Yaz over her trousers and began to grope her filthily and without pretence of grace. JJ was ravenous. That much was clear. 

Hushed moans, sighs and gasps, the rustle of clothes, and the wet smack of JJ’s lips filled the cabin in harmonious unison. Yaz closed her thighs around JJ’s hand and arched into her touch. In response, JJ rubbed harder and faster and Yaz was already soaked through and she wanted more, more, more. 

In the end, it wasn’t Yaz who forced JJ off her, but JJ who withdrew of her own volition — if only because she, too, was hankering for something more. Leaving Yaz’s smarting skin to bruise, JJ lifted her head and licked her lips. Every golden fleck of her irises was glistening with appetite. “Now?” she asked. 

For once, Yaz couldn’t find it in herself to see anything amusing to JJ’s unabashed pining. She couldn’t even muster a smirk when she nodded her head without a word. 

JJ climbed off the sofa without further adieu. She waited patiently for Yaz to push herself upright and then, maintaining heavy, uninterrupted eye contact all the while, JJ sank slowly to her knees at Yaz’s feet. They regarded one another like that for a moment, Yaz looking down and JJ up. The fire burning behind JJ spat embers at the brickwork and shawled the two of them in a heat so close it became a tangible thing; a bubble separating them from all that lay beyond the immediate warmth. Winter didn’t exist. The forest and the lake didn’t exist. Nor did thunderstorms or old tragedies or doubt. There was too much flame and feeling in the room to allow for anything else. It was too big. It was everywhere and everything. 

It was JJ and Yaz, and all their boundless love. 

JJ curled her hands around the backs of Yaz’s calves. Looking to Yaz for a brief nod of consent, she pulled her towards the edge of the sofa and pushed her legs apart. She’d failed to get Yaz out of her trousers before. This time, when JJ reached with steadier hands for Yaz’s waistband, Yaz didn’t stop her. She peeled Yaz’s joggers off without rushing, helped along by Yaz lifting her weight from the cushions, and dropped them onto the floor.

When they landed with a soft thud on the floorboards, Yaz paused. Skinny knees on solid wood — not exactly a recipe for comfort. She picked up a plump pillow and offered it to JJ. “Use this.”

“Worried I’m not comfy enough to eat you out?” JJ asked with a teasing lilt to her tone. “Must be love.” 

“Just take the bloody cushion.”

“Or what?”

Yaz raised a brow at JJ, who looked like a disruptive school kid trying to contain a nervous laugh in the face of discipline. “Oh, so _that’s_ the mood you’re in?” Yaz leaned forwards and twirled a wavy lock of JJ’s hair between her fingers, watching the way blonde wound around brown with vague interest. JJ, too, paid rapt attention to Yaz’s hand, as if it were a lit stick of dynamite burning like a flare beside her cheek. “You’re gonna be good for me, JJ, aren’t you? ‘Cause if you’re not…” Yaz kissed her teeth. 

JJ swallowed audibly. “If I’m not?” 

Lips stretching into an arch smile, Yaz sat back. She didn’t miss the way JJ breathed a small sigh of relief when Yaz’s hand withdrew from her face. Except Yaz wasn’t quite done having her fun. She pulled her sweatshirt off over her head and flung it to one side. Having been dressed for comfort, Yaz was left in a pair of black boy shorts and a plain bra, but JJ was no less wowed by the display of marble-carved abs, the deep valley between her cleavage, the smooth stretch of her parted legs and toned arms. Slack-jawed, JJ reached for Yaz. 

“Only good girls get to touch me, Jamie,” sang Yaz.

“I’m good. I’ll be good. Promise,” swore JJ, tightly gripping the edges of the cushions at either side of Yaz’s legs to keep from touching her without permission. She eyed her whole body like it was Christmas dinner, and then fixed her pleading eyes on Yaz’s. “I will.”

“Sure? I don’t wanna fuck _myself_ _,_ babe, but I will if I have to.” At that, Yaz inched her fingers beneath the hem of her boxers. JJ’s eyes snapped open so wide they practically made a sound. 

" _Don’t._ Yasmin, please,” begged JJ. Yaz’s hand slowed and JJ took that as incentive to press on. She took the pillow she’d refused before and positioned it beneath her knees. “See? Come on. I’ll make you feel so good. Don’t I always make you feel incredible? Don’t I always take care of you? It’s all I want. I just wanna get you off. Please, baby.” 

Yaz’s hand stopped. “I’m not your baby right now,” she said, though her mouth had gone dry and her voice, infuriatingly, wavered. She steeled herself and carried on. “Who am I, babe?”

JJ looked lost. “You’re — you’re Yasmin Khan. You’re the love of my life.”

Taking pity, Yaz decided to help JJ out a little. She took one of JJ’s hands and put it on her thigh. JJ melted. “Who’s your daddy, Jamie?”

That, evidently, had been the last thing JJ was expecting to hear. Her mouth hung open and colour crept up her neck and dusted the tops of her ears. It was too easy. Too easy to take her voice, her flimsy composure, any notion of rational thought. 

God, but she was a treat to play with. 

After recollecting herself, JJ slid her hand further up Yaz’s thigh and gazed wantonly up at her. “You are.”

“Come again?”

“You’re my daddy,” susurrated JJ. Her heart beat visibly and rapidly at her neck and Yaz made a mental note to paint it redder and bluer than even her own when the opportunity next arose. 

“Take off my bra,” she instructed. 

JJ’s hands were up in a flash. She wrapped her arms around Yaz’s back and unclasped her bra with childlike haste, peeling the straps from her shoulders and dropping the garment onto the sofa. She drank in Yaz’s bare chest the way she had the first time; the way she had every time since. A sight she never tired of. Never got used to. Never forgot to be thankful for. 

Unthinking, JJ surged forwards as if to take a hard peak into her mouth. Yaz stopped her with a finger to her lips before she got the chance. “Ask permission.”

Impatient for a taste, JJ whined. “Please, Yaz. You’re killin’ me.”

Yaz’s finger lingered at JJ’s mouth for just a moment more. Then: mercy. She dropped her hand and gave a single nod. Seizing Yaz by the waist, JJ licked her lips and closed them around a stiff nipple. Her teeth nicked the sensitive bud and Yaz bit her lip, weaving her fingers through JJ’s hair as her chest began to rise and fall with increased vigour. 

JJ wasn’t shy about her glee. She purred against Yaz’s chest, dancing perfect figure eights around each of her areolas with her tongue and sucking ardently on the surrounding plump of her breasts until she’d left another scattering of ripe marks across them. One of JJ’s hands edged towards the crease of Yaz’s thigh all the while, thumb stroking the inside of her leg with transparent intent. A knuckle grazed the crotch of Yaz’s boxers and her arousal was betrayed. 

Red-cheeked, JJ detached from a rigid nipple with a perverse _pop_ and peered down between Yaz’s legs. She traced a skittish finger along the damp fabric as if to be sure she hadn’t imagined it the first time. She hadn’t. Yaz was soaking. Forehead resting against Yaz’s chest, JJ trembled with brazen desire. 

“I can’t wait anymore, Yasmin,” she groaned.

“I know, JJ.” Yaz stroked the side of JJ’s face and she leaned into her palm with eyes half closed. “Go ahead and take ‘em off.”

JJ sighed. _Finally._ But then, taking Yaz by surprise, she gripped the backs of her calves and pulled her body further down the sofa until her legs and backside hung off the edge. Before Yaz could wonder about her intentions, JJ leaned down and pinched her underwear between her teeth. Something as solid as a closed fist lodged itself in Yaz’s throat. Ironclad. No words made it past the gaps in those rigid fingers. JJ made direct eye contact with Yaz, dosed her with a shock of unimpeded debauchment, and began to drag the garment down her legs with her mouth.

Her lips grazed the smooth skin of Yaz’s thigh, the bump of a knee, and then, at last, the slope of her foot. The damp garment dangled from her teeth, forgotten entirely now that Yaz was laid entirely bare before her: knees spread and arms stretched atop the back of the sofa. JJ’s mouth fell open and the underwear dropped to the floor. 

Exhaling heavily, JJ bent one of Yaz’s legs and pushed it to one side so that the arch of her foot rested on the verge of the sofa. Yaz was wide open. JJ heeded the invitation. 

She forged a path of wet kisses along the inside of Yaz’s leg. The nearer she drew, the more acute the sensations became. Hot tongue. Tender flesh. Incapacitating anticipation. When JJ’s head finally came to hover over the wanting core of her, Yaz ground her teeth and braced herself. 

“Can I?” asked JJ. Her humid breath fluttered against Yaz with a tickle that made her hips twitch. 

“Do it,” she urged. 

Given how tirelessly she’d been teasing JJ, Yaz fully expected her to descend upon her with immodest haste. But JJ had always been one for subverting expectations. With two fingers, she spread Yaz’s glistening folds and ran her tongue — leisurely, unhurried — along the length of her. The fist in Yaz’s throat caught her next breath and squeezed it into nonexistence. 

JJ’s tongue circled Yaz’s clit several times without paying it much due, and then dipped back down to her entrance. Slow, she pushed her tongue inside of her, deep as it would go. Yaz moaned. It was, she remarked, as if JJ was teasing herself. Holding back not to vex Yaz but to draw the whole thing out. Tasting her. Relishing in the feel of her. Yaz lolled her head against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes to the maddening feel of JJ’s sure, probing tongue lapping up her essence. 

A low rumble sounded from the base of JJ’s throat. “Christ, you’re so wet.” No sooner did her tongue slide out than she slotted her middle finger in to replace it; it cruised along Yaz’s slick walls until all but the knuckle was submerged. Her finger hardly twitched and Yaz gasped. 

“Come _on_ , JJ,” she implored through gritted teeth. 

JJ’s sordid smirk put devils and demons to shame: a reminder that she was nowhere near as naive — or, indeed, as innocent — as often she was made out to be. She pulled her finger almost all the way out and then, the second she drove it right back in, she closed her mouth around the needy nexus of Yaz’s thrumming nerves. 

And so JJ’s work began in earnest. 

Pumping a quick rhythm inside Yaz with her hand, she laved her clit with her tongue and lips, making fast (and noisy) work of Yaz’s crumbling poise. She’d only grant her jaw respite for the briefest of intermissions, during which she used her fingers to spread Yaz all over herself and, occasionally, grant Yaz a morsel from her fingertips. 

“Okay?” asked JJ. 

“More,” Yaz panted, face tilted skyward and knuckles white at the back of JJ’s head.

JJ stretched Yaz with a second finger. She hardly waited for her walls to adjust before a third was plunging in right after, each of them igniting a dizzying friction deep inside of Yaz. Moaning with throaty conviction, Yaz knotted her fingers tighter in JJ’s hair, promoting her to whimper delectably against the slick heat of her. JJ’s jaw was working overtime and her wrist, no doubt, was powering admirably through its awful ache. 

“Fuck,” breathed Yaz. Her brows were pulled taut together and a light sheen was forming above them. “You’re so good for me, Jamie, aren’t you? You’re such a good girl, you really are. _Fuck._ What’s my name?”

Lifting her head, fingers remaining ceaseless inside of Yaz, JJ darted her tongue across her shining lips and sat up straighter until they were face to face. She curled her free hand around the back of Yaz’s neck and murmured a titillating, “Daddy,” against the curve of her swollen mouth. Then she kissed it. Her tongue slid across Yaz’s and they both moaned when JJ crooked her fingers in the tight heat of her. When she whimpered in response, JJ pulled Yaz’s lower lip between her teeth and closely studied the effects her every vigorous ministration had upon her face. 

“Make me come, JJ,” pleaded Yaz. “I wanna come for you, babe.”

“Oh, best words in the English language. In any language, actually.” Following another brief, ardent kiss, JJ ducked her head between Yaz’s thighs once more and when her tongue found home and she took Yaz’s over-sensitive bud into her wet mouth, sucking as if both their lives depended on it, Yaz let rip a guttural groan. 

She reached for the hand JJ was gripping her thigh with and locked their fingers together. They held hands as JJ worked her up and up and far away, fingers deep and tongue swift and methodical. 

Nearing her climax, Yaz threw her head back and held JJ’s own fast against her. She hardly registered how hard she was crushing her hand until she felt JJ grunt with the pain of it. When she tried to release her, however, JJ only clamped down harder and doubled down on the mighty effort between her legs. Yaz’s moans became staggered and higher in pitch, her lungs heaved, she screwed her eyes shut. The dial on her mounting pleasure went up notch after notch until it exceeded maximum and sent her free falling into ecstasy unknown. 

She rasped JJ’s name as she came — legs trembling, toes curling, hips jerking forwards. It was an orgasm that bloomed like a springtime flower, every nerve in her body another petal unfurling; life and sunlight divined in JJ’s wicked-fast hands and hungry tongue. 

Yaz came hard and she came loud and when it was over, she was left an eden. Serene. Blissful. Dewy and aglow.

Gradually, JJ retired from her loving labour. Yaz peeled her eyes open just in time to see her withdrawing her fingers. They came away thickly coated and, when she spread her fingers, a string of come bridged the very tips. Yaz lost her breath all over again when she watched JJ decide not to lick her fingers, but dive them beneath the waistband of her sweatpants. Her brow quivered as she dipped her fingers in and gathered herself up on them, mingling her own musky arousal with Yaz’s. 

She pulled them back out and took her whole index finger into her mouth, eyelids fluttering, and purred while she animatedly licked her skin clean. Yaz could do nothing but stare. “We taste amazin’ together,” JJ sighed, offering her hand to Yaz. “Meant to be, you and me.”

Yaz let JJ slide her middle and ring finger past her lips and along the length of her tongue. Her heart churned, tongue coming away sticky when she swirled it around JJ’s fingers. JJ was right. They paired well — all salt and flavour and the intoxicating natural perfume of their mutually depraved desire. 

Bobbing her head forwards and backwards, Yaz closed her hand around JJ’s wrist, holding it in place as she sucked her fingers off. She wasn't lost on the obscene imagery it evoked, nor on the successive tumble in JJ’s breathing. By the time she was done, JJ’s eyes were cloudy with salacious desire and the muscles in her face had gone slack. Her pupils pinballed between her polished fingers and Yaz’s face. She was visibly reeling and, Yaz was sure, committing every last detail of the display to her perfect memory. 

Yaz got to her feet. 

“Up,” she said, and offered JJ her non-wounded hand. 

JJ accepted Yaz’s help and pulled herself up to her feet. Stepping right up to her, Yaz tugged on the bottom of JJ’s shirt until she lifted her arms obligingly, at which point Yaz lifted the top over her head and flung it to one side, ruffling her hair in the process. Yaz’s eyes fell over JJ’s bare chest. Her pink, pebbled nipples stood to attention and begged for a little of Yaz’s. Standing by the heat of the fire, it was hard to blame it on the cold — not that either of them attempted to. 

Yaz held JJ by her waist and yanked her close enough that they stood naked chest to naked chest, yearning lips dancing in the air around one another. 

“I waited so long for you, Jamie,” uttered Yaz. “My whole life.”

Then, before the moment could become too sentimental and distract Yaz from her single-minded goal of paying JJ back for her prize winning performance, she kissed her. She kissed her deep and she kissed her like they had all the time in the world; like everything else stopped the moment their mouths met. A whole planet at their mercy — anxiously awaiting permission to keep on turning. 

_Let it wait,_ Yaz thought. _Let it all just wait while I kiss the woman I love._

Yaz ran her palm up JJ’s side and nestled it into the space between their bodies, cupping a pert breast and prompting JJ to sigh around her tongue. As Yaz’s thumb brushed purposefully over JJ’s erect nipple, JJ cupped Yaz’s backside with both hands and held her ever tighter. Yaz pinched her fingers and JJ grunted. JJ squeezed her hands and Yaz hummed. Their breathing picked up. Their brows furrowed. In seconds, they became slaves to their own animal urges. 

Making good on the promise she made to herself before, Yaz pulled JJ’s head back by her hair, zeroing in on the pale, unmarred flesh of her throat. Her teeth came out to play and JJ made a noise halfway between a gasp and a moan. 

Next thing, Yaz was backing JJ quickly up to the wall beside the hearth. She shielded her head from too harsh an impact against the wood with her hand, only to turn the hand into a fist that tugged at JJ’s roots while she made sloppy, effective work of her neck. First one side, then the other. Pushing JJ’s legs apart with a thigh, Yaz then proceeded to drive it up against her crotch. JJ mumbled a curse and ground against Yaz’s leg — needy for a little friction. All the while, the hand at JJ’s breast kneaded and groped and tweaked, every infliction deliberate; every twitch of Yaz’s muscles yielding sublime results. 

But forgive her; Yaz wasn’t quite so patient as JJ at present.

Abandoning the nipple she’d been teasing between her knuckles, Yaz’s hand ventured further south across the flat of JJ’s stomach until it reached the drawstring of her sweatpants. In one sure tug, the bow came undone. 

She dipped her hand into her trousers and rubbed the flats of her fingers across JJ’s boxers. Even through the thick material, Yaz worked JJ up to the point of being tangibly, wonderfully wet in no time. JJ’s trimmed fingernails dug into Yaz’s ribs, leaving white marks and crescent moons in her pliant flesh. Yaz disengaged from JJ’s throat and admired her handiwork with a lick of her lips. That was JJ wearing a turtleneck to work when they got back. 

“What do you want, babe?” Yaz husked into JJ’s ear. JJ was grinding against Yaz’s hand, panting against Yaz’s cheek, heart kicking up a hurricane against Yaz’s heart. 

“I — I want to — _fuck_.” 

“Well, you can have that. Specifics would be nice.”

“I want you inside me,” blurted JJ. Yaz’s fingers pressed against her clit and she clenched her teeth. “I wanna feel you all the way inside me. God, please.”

“Did you bring anything?”

JJ nodded. “In my case. By the bed.”

“Presumptive of you,” teased Yaz. Nonetheless, she removed her hand from JJ’s pants and pressed her palms against the wall at either side of her head. “By the time I get back, you better be totally naked, and totally ready. Okay?”

“Oh, Yaz, I’ve _been_ ready.”

Yaz simpered. “Don’t go anywhere, babe.” With that, she kissed the scar on JJ’s cheek and made for the bedroom. 

The power was still out, so Yaz swiped a torch from the cupboard under the stairs and searched their room using the harsh beam of the LED light. When she found JJ’s case, she held the torch between her teeth and rummaged through neatly folded cashmere, cartoonishly patterned boxers, bottles of cologne, socks, silk pyjamas, and — at last — a large black zip bag Yaz recognised well. 

When she opened it up, her grin luminesced in the white shine of the flashlight. “JJ, you dog,” she muttered around it. 

When Yaz returned to the living room, fastened into a harness she wore over a pair of lingerie to better keep it in place, JJ was crouched by the fire and prodding it with a poker. She was naked; a warm glow haloing the outline of her body. Yaz approached quietly, and only cleared her throat when she was standing on the thick shag carpet behind JJ. JJ spun without rising. Her jaw fell open. 

“Wow,” she said after a long moment of gaping. 

“Is this new?”

“Uh-huh.” JJ licked her lips, unable to tear her eyes away from the black toy protruding from Yaz’s crotch. “It’s… it’s…”

“Big?”

“Right. Yeah. Big.” Sure enough, the shaft was noticeably longer and wider than those they typically used, and both the curved silicone and bulbous head were no doubt designed for magnifying pleasure to the nth degree. JJ’s in particular (though Yaz herself couldn’t wait to get her hands on JJ while strapped into that thing. She’d be moaning the house down, for sure). “Had it specially made. It should, um, it should fit perfectly.”

“Sure you can take it? Gonna need a lot of this,” said Yaz, holding up the bottle of lube in her hand. 

“I can take it. Just, y’know…”

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll take care of you,” assured Yaz. 

Seemingly without thinking, JJ — still down on one knee — reached out and wrapped a hand around the toy. She stroked it slowly, feeling the artificial veins and bumps and ridges, and aggravated her lower lip between her teeth. There was no actual need to do what she did next. Yaz couldn’t feel it. JJ couldn’t feel it. But, the fact was, when JJ opened her mouth and closed her lips around the tip, it was a sight so hazardously sinful that Yaz couldn’t help but swear under her breath. 

Lightly, Yaz put her hand at the back of JJ’s head. She didn’t push or prompt, only stroked her hair with her thumb and watched the black rubber vanish inch by glorious inch inside JJ’s mouth. She was never going to be able to fit the whole thing in, but she made a valiant effort. 

Brows stitched together, JJ didn’t stop until the tip reached the back of her throat. Then, looking directly up into Yaz’s pit black eyes, she started to suck her off. She upped her tempo so startlingly that Yaz blindly reached for the mantle just for something to hold onto while JJ thrust her head backwards and forwards zealously. Every time she pulled back, the slick shaft caught the light of the fire, gleaming with JJ’s saliva. 

“Christ, JJ,” cursed Yaz when JJ took the strap as far back as possible and held, held, held until she started to splutter around it. And then she held some more. Yaz had to hand it to her, she had an impressive gag reflex. 

When she eventually withdrew, JJ was breathless and glassy eyed, and her chin was coated with her own saliva. So Yaz bent down and licked it off. She dragged her tongue upwards across JJ’s lips and held her gentle by the jaw, their eye contact stifling in the all but nonexistent space between them. 

“Okay?” Yaz checked.

“More,” rasped JJ.

“You want more?” Yaz was surprised. There were still tears threatening to spill over the edge where JJ’s eyes had watered. 

“Please.”

After a few seconds’ delay, during which Yaz did naught but study JJ to ensure she was certain, Yaz stood upright and tilted her head. “You like sucking my cock, don’t you, JJ?”

JJ nodded. 

“You want me to fuck your pretty face, is that it?” Yaz went on, smearing her thumb across JJ’s lips. JJ allowed her to manipulate them; even opened her mouth to encourage her. It was indescribable, the way it made Yaz feel to see JJ so submissive — even after all this time. She put so much trust in Yaz; Yaz would have to ensure it wasn’t misplaced. “You’re gonna be a good girl and tap my leg if it gets too much, aren’t you?”

“I won’t need to—“

“I said,” Yaz cut in sharply, “you’ll let me know if it gets too much. Not a request, all right? I need to hear you say it, babe.”

Something shifted behind JJ’s eyes and, momentarily blinking out of her lustful daze, she tilted her head back and looked up at Yaz with the smallest of curious frowns. Which then became the smallest of smiles. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“Nothin’,” denied JJ, but her lips stretched ever wider and Yaz found herself getting fed up. That is, until JJ clued her in. “I’m just rememberin’ the first time we did this. How different it was. Y’were far more concerned with keepin’ me in line than making sure I could hack it. But now…”

“But now I love you, Jamie,” said Yaz. Every time the words left her mouth, they packed no less of a punch. It was a hit she and JJ both felt. “So I’m not gonna be reckless with you, no matter how much you might want me to be.”

“I won’t break.”

“Only ‘cause I refuse to break you.”

JJ shrugged her shoulders, lips curling into the kind of arrogant, challenge of a smile she knew Yaz couldn’t resist wiping from her face when it appeared. “Think you’re givin’ yourself too much credit, ladybird.”

Yaz’s face hardened. “Oh, is that right?” she asked, combing her fingers through JJ’s hair and then knotting them at the scalp. JJ’s smirk disintegrated. “Know what, Jamie? I’m getting kinda tired of hearing you speak. If I were you, I’d shut up.”

“Why don’t you make me?” dared JJ, though her voice wobbled in a telling fashion. 

“God, I were hoping you’d say that.” 

Whip-quick, Yaz forced JJ onto her back by her hair and straddled her chest, knees buried into the soft rug and toy hovering directly in front of JJ’s round, exhilarated eyes. Yaz gripped JJ’s face. “Let’s see who’s laughing in a minute, shall we? Remember what I said. You only need to tap my leg.”

“Yes, ma’am,” JJ said in a goading, sarcastic register. 

Yaz pursed her lips. “Open your mouth.”

Rather than oblige, JJ flashed her teeth in an audaciously mocking smirk. Clearly Yaz had underestimated just how incorrigible she was feeling. Not to worry, Yaz knew precisely how to handle her when she got like this. It didn’t take a lot. Yaz pinched JJ’s nose and leaned over her face. 

“I said,” she hissed as JJ’s body tensed up beneath her and she battled with the need to breathe, “open. Your. Mouth.”

When survival instinct kicked in, JJ unwillingly adhered and gasped in several deep lungfuls of oxygen. Yaz seized her opportunity. Releasing JJ’s nose, she jammed the head of the strap into her mouth and grabbed her head with both hands. She held JJ’s face against her crotch and rolled her hips forward, gradually nudging the shaft deeper into her throat. Apparently it wasn’t enough. JJ gripped Yaz’s backside and tugged her closer, urging for more of her than Yaz was providing. 

“You’re really bloody on one today, aren’t you?” mused Yaz. She slid partially out of JJ’s mouth and then pitched her hips forwards, driving the dildo as far back as it would go and prompting JJ to cough at the impact. “All right?”

JJ attempted to nod, but only ended up choking for her troubles. Yaz pulled out, gave her a breather, and then thrust back in. Bracing her palms on the floor above JJ’s head, she started to ride her face in earnest. JJ moaned around the cock. She even went so far as to wrap her hand around it while she sucked, lifting her head in a keen effort to impress Yaz with how well she could take her. And it was working. Yaz was impressed.

So much so that, after a minute, Yaz thought it high time she was rewarded. She swivelled around and swung her leg over JJ so that she was still straddling her but facing the other way. 

“Keep going, babe,” grunted Yaz, resuming the propulsions of her hips and moaning under her breath when she spared a glance down. She might not have been able to physically feel JJ’s mouth around her, but the sight alone was enough to ignite within her a terrible lust; she felt it like lava in her veins. “You’re doing so well.” 

The only sign that JJ had acknowledged Yaz’s praise was the way she deepened her reach and went for gold. 

Pleased with her reaction, Yaz leaned down between JJ’s bent legs, curled her arms around her thighs, and ran her tongue from clit to entrance. JJ moaned around the toy. Her fingers dug harshly into Yaz’s hips, which Yaz accepted as a fine incentive to keep going. She attached her open mouth to the hot, damp valley of JJ’s abundant desire and, like a thirsty lion at a watering hole, lapped as though for survival rather than pleasure. 

Yaz ate JJ with heart; with messy, impassioned dedication. The harder her jaw worked, the more JJ writhed underneath her. Her hips lurched and she chased Yaz’s tonge, spreading her legs ever wider with shameless rapacity. JJ’s fingernails raked at Yaz’s skin and Yaz’s were buried in the giving flesh of JJ’s inner thighs. The sounds JJ made, a combination of gags and moans and grunts and whines, spurred Yaz on like a gunshot at a sprint. And if this was a race, Yaz left all else in the dust behind her. 

It was true that JJ lived to please. It was also true that Yaz sought equal gratification in JJ’s loud, enraptured approval. Getting JJ off was never, ever boring. It was a show in its own right — and Yaz had booked front row tickets to each and every one. 

Yaz was still thrusting into JJ’s throat, still dining out hungrily on her salty-sweet nectar, when she felt JJ’s palm tap the side of her leg three times. Yaz climbed off her in record time. Wiping the smear from her lips with the back of her hand, she swung her leg back and knelt beside JJ. 

“You okay?” asked Yaz. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” panted JJ with a shake of her head. Yaz thumbed the saliva from her mouth and JJ smiled weakly, taking a second to catch her breath. “It’s just, um, I were gonna…”

“You were gonna come?”

JJ nodded. 

Yaz cocked her head. “You could’ve just done it. Didn’t have to stop me.” She reached out and stroked along the nave of JJ’s heaving chest with her index finger. “Thought you were feeling rebellious, or have I fucked that out of you yet?”

In silence, JJ watched Yaz’s finger trail between her breasts, along her stomach, and then pause at her pelvis. She traced delicate whorls atop JJ’s skin and the muscles in JJ’s cheeks flexed. 

JJ cleared her throat. “I — I decided I like makin’ you happy more than I like makin’ you mad.”

“Oh really?” Yaz knelt above JJ’s legs and JJ clearly didn’t know whether to be looking her in the eyes when she came face to face with her, or to be fixating on the hand sliding further south between her thighs. “‘Cause you know what’d really make me mad? If you came without my permission.” Yaz pressed her thumb to JJ’s swollen clit and JJ grimaced, thudding the back of her head against the floor. 

“Yaz, please…” 

“Better hold it, babe,” crooned Yaz, gently massaging JJ and spreading a fresh flood of arousal through her folds. While she touched her, she ran her tongue up JJ’s neck and then nibbled on the lobe of her ear. 

“This isn’t fair,” whimpered JJ when Yaz leisurely flicked a finger back and forth over her clit. She was hardly touching her, but JJ was obviously a hair’s breadth from coming undone. 

“You’re really complaining? I’m touching you,” Yaz murmured into her ear, “and you’re complaining?”

JJ squeezed her eyes shut. “I — I can’t hold it. I’m too close. Please.”

Yaz moaned obscenely beside JJ’s face, for no reason other than to make the situation infinitely harder for her. Sure enough, JJ sank her teeth into her lower lip and held tightly onto Yaz’s thighs as though they were a tether to stability. “You’re so fun to wind up, JJ,” Yaz spoke against the slam of her pulse, tormenting her clit with two fingers. “It’s one of the things I love about—“

JJ whimpered then. Her body jerked partially off the floor and her jaw fell open, a strangled grunt falling pitifully from her lips. Yaz watched her come with eyebrows raised and, when her hand stilled with shock, JJ was forced to grind against her fingers for the friction needed to prolong her satisfaction. 

When she was done, JJ’s muscles relaxed and her eyes snapped open with the realisation of what she’d done. Her embarrassment was plain: in the colour of her cheeks and the mortified expression on her face. “Yaz, I’m so—“

“Did you just come because I said I love you?” interrupted Yaz. She’d yet to even remove her hand. 

”It just — I were already so close and it just sent me over the edge. I’m sorry, Yasmin.”

But an apology wasn’t what Yaz was after. 

JJ’s eyes widened with surprise when Yaz kissed her. After a split second, in which surprise melted into relief, her eyelids fluttered closed and she held Yaz’s face to her with clammy hands, parting her lips for her tongue and greeting it with her own. Yaz kissed her wet and true and intense. She kissed her and it tasted like love. 

Once Yaz broke away from JJ’s lips, it was a very long moment before JJ opened her eyes again. When she did, there was a fuzzy smile in her firelit eyes and Yaz’s heart leapt for it. 

“So, um, does that mean I’m off the hook?” JJ wondered, as hopeful as she was shy. 

“For now. Let’s get you off the floor, shall we?” Yaz climbed to her feet and helped JJ to hers, and then took her by the hand and led her to the sofa. She pushed her gently onto her back. While JJ made herself comfortable, Yaz retrieved the lube she’d abandoned earlier and lathered it generously onto the strap. JJ watched intently and Yaz was well aware how transfixed she was. She was still stroking herself as she approached. “Ready for me, babe?”

“Absolutely,” claimed JJ, reaching for Yaz’s hand and helping her on top of her. 

Yaz lay atop JJ’s body and JJ hiked her legs around her back. Leaning her weight on one of her forearms, Yaz guided the head of the toy between JJ’s folds and positioned it at the entrance. She looked up at JJ. “Just say if you wanna stop or take a break.”

This time, JJ didn’t put on any airs. She nodded wordlessly and cupped Yaz’s neck for something to brace herself with. 

Shouldering a sweat-damp strand of hair out of her face, Yaz began. She nudged her hips forward and felt the initial resistance of JJ’s walls, slick with want though they were, hindering her advance. A silent exchange made with eyes alone told Yaz to press on. She pushed deeper, careful to wait for JJ’s body to adjust after every couple of inches before resuming. When she was only halfway in, JJ gasped and Yaz felt a sharp pain at the nape of her neck where she was clutching as her skin. 

“Want me to stop?” Yaz checked. 

“No, no,” refused JJ. “Don’t stop. Just… just kiss me.”

Yaz allowed JJ to pull her head down and engage her in a heady kiss. She guided the toy in further and further and the kiss became heavier and harsher — almost angry. It felt like JJ was subconsciously mirroring the pressure inside of her with the fierce pressure of her lips on Yaz’s. Regardless, JJ continued to stretch around the shaft; her body was unprecedentedly accommodating to its size. With a final push of Yaz’s hips, the rest of the toy disappeared inside the slippery strait of JJ and she yelped quietly against Yaz’s mouth. 

“Fuck,” JJ grunted. They both peered down and marvelled at the small sliver of black silicone still visible, apparently each as surprised at the other that JJ had taken it so well. 

“How’s it feel?” asked Yaz. 

“Feels like I’m about to get the poundin’ of my life.”

Yaz laughed. “Always do when you’re with me.”

“Right you are.”

“I’m gonna fuck you now, JJ, okay?” Yaz curled her arms under JJ’s armpits; a slight movement that created a modicum of friction inside JJ and made her tense. Or perhaps that was down to Yaz’s brusqueness. “If it helps you to pull my hair or dig your nails in, don’t hold back.”

“I won't if you don’t.”

“Works for me.”

JJ blew her cheeks out. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Yeah,” smiled Yaz. “I know.”

The first handful of thrusts were slow but deep. Yaz would pull part way out and then drive back into her until their pelvises collided and they both groaned — JJ because of the blinding concoction of sensations she was experiencing, and Yaz because she knew she was the one inflicting them. 

Foreheads, noses, mouths bumped together with every jolt of Yaz’s hips and their hot, heavy breaths stuck to one another’s sweaty skin. 

“You want more?” Yaz huffed against JJ’s cheek. She bucked into her from an adjusted angle and JJ cried out, locking her fingers together behind Yaz’s neck and digging her thumbs into her jaw. Instantly, Yaz slowed down. “Less?”

“Thought we said no — _ah_ — no holdin’ back?” JJ grunted. 

“I know, but—“

“I’ll let you know if it’s too much. I said I would, didn’t I?” JJ lifted her head from the cushion to capture Yaz’s mouth in a brief, reassuring kiss and then, when she disentangled their lips, proffered an adoring smile. “Stop worryin’, ladybird. We’ve done a lot heavier than this in the past.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Yaz shook her head and scoffed. “Look at me, you’re making me soft.”

“I think it’s kind of adorable.”

“I’m not supposed to be adorable right now.”

“Tough,” shrugged JJ. She poked Yaz’s nose and grinned when she scowled. “Cute as a button, see?”

“Right — that’s it. You want it harder? You got it, babe.” Yaz grabbed JJ’s hands and pinned them to the sofa at either side of her head, ignoring the way her bandaged hand screamed its objection. If JJ could take it, so could she. “Adorable, my arse.”

“Well, your arse _is_ ador—“

Yaz pitched suddenly, violently forwards and JJ’s teasing tapered off into a harsh gasp. Reminding herself that this was what she wanted, Yaz did it again. And again. Each time, she rammed into her with a little more force. Each time, she picked up the pace just a fraction until she’d worked up to a quick, steady rhythm which made the legs of the sofa squeal against the wooden floor. But that was nothing on the noises JJ was making. 

Her open mouthed moans poured into Yaz’s ears like strange music, fragmented as they were by every vigorous thrust. At times, it was if she was trying to speak — to say Yaz’s name, or swear, or form a single coherent word — but then Yaz would propel the head of the strap deep into the recesses of her and, the moment it struck home, JJ’s effort at articulation were abandoned. 

The harder Yaz fucked JJ, the wetter she got; the greater the ease with which she was able to sheath herself entirely inside of her. 

“This what you wanted, JJ?” Yaz growled, unabating. There was sweat dripping down her spine and her lungs were begging for a little relief. She didn’t intend to grant it. “Want me to fuck you like I hate you? Want me to make you scream?”

_"Ah_ — Yaz…” is all JJ could muster before another high-pitched whine erupted from her throat. 

Releasing JJ’s hands, Yaz wrenched her head back by her hair and licked upwards from her collarbone, across the taut muscles of her neck, all the way to her open mouth. She sucked on her quivering lips and toyed them between her teeth. Not kissing — playing. And when she licked the inside of JJ’s mouth, she receded too fast for JJ’s efforts at reciprocation to bear fruit, giving her hair another rough tug for good measure. 

JJ’s nails raked across Yaz’s back and it was a burn that unearthed a manic tenacity within her. She gripped JJ’s jaw, gave her a wild kiss, and then leaned back. Kneeling over her, she lifted JJ’s ankles to her shoulders and held her legs in place. Yaz shot a still-gasping JJ a conspiratorial wink. 

Then she plunged back in. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” JJ cried, head tossed back and hands blindly grasping for anything to hold onto. 

Yaz slammed repeatedly into the squeeze of JJ, whose walls clenched around the strap like too much wasn’t enough. The visceral smack of their bodies contended even with the beat of Yaz’s pounding heart and she didn’t think she’d ever known a sweeter symphony. 

Bar one. 

To hear that, she’d have to orchestrate it herself. Yaz spat on her fingers and dropped them to JJ’s clit. She felt tender and hot and silky and Yaz sighed contentedly. JJ was far more vocal. The moment Yaz began to rub tight circles against her, JJ released a strangled moan and thoughtlessly fisted her hand into Yaz’s ponytail. Yaz oozed smugness from her every pore. 

Continuing to jolt JJ’s bones with her aggressive pace, she leaned into her legs and hovered over her beautifully grimacing face. Her next thrust yanked a guttural, choked whine from JJ’s lungs. Then, remembering JJ’s failure to keep from unspooling on the floor earlier, a delicious idea occurred to Yaz. 

“Know what I _really_ love about you, JJ?” she asked between heavy pants. “I love the way you scream.” 

The fingers in Yaz’s hair clamped down tighter and JJ swore. 

“I love how easy it is to make you wet. To make you a dripping mess.” 

Yaz pressed her fingers harder against JJ and she all but squeaked. JJ managed to pry her eyes open. The moment they landed on the sight between her legs, watching both Yaz’s hand and cock working tirelessly to make her come undone, she moaned ever louder. 

“Keep — keep going,” JJ rasped. 

That, Yaz could do.

There was no shortage of things she loved about JJ. 

“I love it when you beg. I love it when you want me so bad you drop to your knees for me. I love that if I tell you to open your mouth…”

JJ opened her mouth and Yaz spat into it. 

“You’ll do it. One way or another.” Yaz’s fingers were a blur, JJ’s legs were shaking; both of them were gasping and grunting and gazing at one another. “More than that, I love the way you smile and it takes up your whole face. I love that you don’t have a mean bone in your body. I love — _fuck_ — I love that you can make me laugh as easily as you can turn me on. I love how stunning you are and how you don’t even know it.”

“I’m close,” trembled JJ. “Yaz, I’m so close.”

Yaz gathered every ounce of energy she had left and focused it all on the merciless pace of her pelvis and fingers, fucking JJ through her own creeping exhaustion and refusing to relent. 

“I love it when you call me ladybird,” Yaz heaved. Talking became a greater struggle with every passing moment but it was working. JJ’s muscles were going rigid, and both the tight knit of her brow and the rising volume of her moans told Yaz her seconds were numbered, so she kept going. “I love it when you call me baby. I love it when you kiss my neck. Hold my hand. Tell bad jokes. I love waking up next to you and falling asleep next to you and existing next to you. I — JJ, I fucking love you. I love you. Fuck, I love you.”

JJ’s hips surged off the sofa and ecstasy pinned her shoulders down. Her whole body convulsed while Yaz just kept riding her and rubbing her and watching the show unfold, biting her lip to the tune of JJ’s magnificent rhapsody of a scream. _What a woman,_ Yaz remarked in awe. _What an incredible bloody woman._

Succeeding a final series of slow, deep thrusts, Yaz ground to an eventual halt and let JJ’s weak legs drop to the sofa once her body went limp with relief. Overworked, she slumped on top of her and they both lay there, naked and panting and stuck together with perspiration and sticky skin. 

“Oh yeah,” muttered Yaz. “And I love making you come.”

JJ’s heavy breathing gave way to a breathless laugh and she wrapped her arms around Yaz’s shoulders. Yaz grinned against JJ’s neck. Pressed her lips to it. Held her close. 

“Thanks, Yaz,” sighed JJ.

“For screwing you? Anytime.”

“For loving me.”

Yaz lifted her head. She stroked JJ’s cheek and kissed her, mild and kind. “Thanks for loving me, too.”

* * *

Afterwards, once the power came back on, they trudged up to their room, washed up, and collapsed onto their bed. By the time they realised they’d forgotten, neither of them could be bothered to get up and draw the curtains on the balcony doors. Beyond them, night was fading. Grey dawn and birdsong were imminent. 

Beneath brushed cotton sheets, Yaz wrapped her arm around JJ and traced three words onto her bare stomach with the tip of a finger. 

She thought JJ had drifted to sleep, when, “Yasmin?”

“Mm?”

“Why don’t you like thunderstorms?”

Yaz finished the word she was writing on JJ’s skin and then splayed her fingers flat against her, both of them running much cooler now. “They bring up bad memories, that’s all.”

“Bad memories of what?” JJ turned around in Yaz’s hold until they lay nose to nose in the dim light. 

“It’s stupid.”

“I bet it isn’t.” 

A weighted pause. Yaz sighed. “You remember when I told you about what happened with my school counsellor? That he…”

“I remember. You don’t have to rehash that.”

“Well, after it happened, I were gonna do something stupid. I left home and I walked down to this highway. It was thundering — one of the worst storms I’ve ever seen — and I just stood in the heart of it tryna work myself up to step out onto the road.” Yaz shrugged and looked down. “Probably would’ve done it if my sister hadn’t shown up. God, it’s so embarrassing.”

“You and me have very different definitions of embarrassing,” said JJ. She draped her hand over Yaz’s hip and stroked her ribs with her thumb. “You never get embarrassed of me when I have to get on a plane, or when I ride a rollercoaster, or when I have a public episode. ‘Cause you understand, don’t you? And I understand too. Everyone on this planet’s just tryna survive. Sometimes survival comes with symptoms. Bad symptoms, good symptoms, weird symptoms. We’ve all got ‘em, Yaz. It’s nothin’ to be ashamed of if you get frightened every now and again. You’ve always protected me. I’ll always protect you. It’s what I’m here for.”

“You know I hate being saved.”

“Yeah, but sometimes I think you need it. Where would you be right now if your sister hadn’t saved you that day?” JJ took Yaz’s hand and clasped it tight. “Where would I be if Jack hadn’t found me all those years ago? We could both have gone down such different paths, Yasmin. Who knows if we’d ever have even gotten to meet one another? Can you imagine?”

“No. I don’t want to.”

“Me neither,” agreed JJ. “Point is, we’re both who we are — we’re alive — because we let other people help us. You’re independent, and I admire that so much, but it doesn’t have to mean you can’t _ever_ depend on anyone. You once thought that nothin’ would ever last and nobody would ever stay. But we’re gonna last, Yaz. I’m gonna stay. Depend on me.”

Yaz’s eyes glossed with tears unshed. “Christ, JJ, I hardly ever cried before I met you.”

“Oh.” JJ gave a sad frown and pulled her hand away. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” Yaz shuffled finitely closer to JJ and reclaimed her hand. “I’m not crying ‘cause I’m upset, babe. I’m crying ‘cause I believe you. I know you by now. I know you’d go out there and try to fend off a storm with your bare hands if you thought it’d help.”

JJ laughed. “Absolutely I would. Zeus has got nothin’ on me.”

Yaz wiped a tear from the corner of her eye; it shone blue-white on her fingertip in the early morning light. “Never used to even feel enough to cry.”

“In that case, Yasmin,” began JJ, “it’s my profound honour to make you sob like a baby.”

“You’re such a dick.”

“Let it all out, baby,” ribbed JJ. “Maybe we can stick on _The Notebook_ , listen to some Elliot Smith, grab a pint of ice cream, and you can cry all those tears you’ve been — ow! Why’d you punch me?” JJ rubbed her shoulder where Yaz had given her a light dig. 

“Carry on and you’re sleepin’ alone tonight,” Yaz scolded without a drop of venom.

JJ stuck out her bottom lip and whined. “But you promised you’d spoon me. Y’know I won’t be able to sleep if you don’t spoon me.”

“Who’s the baby now?”

“I’m perfectly okay with bein’ a baby s’long as it means you rock me to sleep.”

“I can’t believe I’m in love with you. Turn around.”

“Oh?”

“So I can _spoon_ you, you bloody…”

“Ah. Thanks, ladybird. This is nice. Cuddles from Yaz? Amazin’.”

“Go to sleep, JJ.”

“I am.”

“You’re clearly not.”

“Oh. Sorry. Can never tell whether I’m dreamin’ or not when I’m with you.”

“Christ almighty.”

“...Yaz?”

“Oh my — what now?”

“Can you say it one more time? Please?”

“Hmm. I really, really like you, JJ.”

“Yaz…”

“I think you’re really neat.”

“That’s not—“

“You’re in _all_ my wet dreams.”

“Well, that’s not fair. And not true. You told me you had a sex dream about Jack once.”

“Oi! You swore you’d never repeat that.”

“Did I? Might just grab my phone and — Yaz, stop! Stop, it tickles! Yaz!”

Wrestling and giggling and forgetting to sleep, neither Yaz nor JJ had the sense to greet the sun when she climbed the balcony and knocked gently on the foggy windows. Neither did they think to wave away the moon, who pulled the lake over herself like a shawl, bid them both farewell for now, and closed her weary eyes. A clear blue sky promised a calmer tomorrow. 

One by one, the creatures of the forest began to rise from slumber and, perched on mossy branches and safe in their cosy nests, the songbirds sounded their merry, tuneless tune.

They, at least, knew the score. 


	13. orphan's honour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just have to apologise for the characterisation in this chapter believe me it was a STRUGGLE. anyway enjoy hope ur all staying safe and healthy x

“Can I take this off now?”

“Nope! Just a bit further, watch your step.”

“Watch my step? Babe, I can’t see a bloody thing.”

“That’s kinda the point of a blindfold, Yaz.”

“Ow!”

“Oops. Sorry. Didn’t see that rock there.”

“Boulder, you mean?”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. It were practically a pebble.”

“I’m gonna murder you.”

“Have to find me first.”

“Babe.”

“Alright, if y’just stand over… there! Okay, we’re here! Go ahead and take it off.”

Bouncing on her soles beside Yaz, JJ waited impatiently for her to unravel the scarf around her eyes and adjust to the blinding December sky — as white and bright as an untouched blanket of snow in the sun. The pair were standing at the top of a flat cliff, a short distance above and outside of the city. Frosted grass shivered in the sub-zero breeze, and the handful of bare trees staggered up the hill looked brittle enough to snap like toothpicks. Their city looked bleak, grim, grey. Its only saving grace, from this distance, was the metropolitan skyscrapers scattered, haphazard, across the landscape like shards of mirror embedded in the earth. Their shiny veneers so easily reflected the ivory pall of clouds above that they were practically invisible. 

Brows pinched with confusion, Yaz swept her eyes across the miles of land rolled out before them. “Okay, I give up. What am I s’posed to be looking at?”

“Don’t you recognise it?” asked JJ. She pulled her hands out of the pocket of her parka, wove her gloved fingers through Yaz’s, and led her carefully towards the edge of the cliff. “Looks different in the daylight, I’ll grant you that. Look down there. Might jog your memory.”

Yaz craned her neck and looked out over the imminent drop, where a narrow road had been carved into the cliff face far below them. By the side of the road, just before the curve around the hill, was an outlook enclosed by trees. Yaz leaned back. “We watched the sunrise down there, right? A couple of months ago.”

“Right, you are!” exclaimed JJ. 

“So why are we here now?”

“Well, I might not have been entirely forthcomin’ about my reasons for bringing you up here back then. Might’ve been scopin’ the place out,” admitted JJ. She was fizzing with the urge to reveal her grand surprise. “Guess where we’re standin’ right now, Yaz. Go on, guess.”

Yaz looked over her shoulder and squinted, as if the plane of grass at their backs would offer any clues. “On a hill?” she ventured. 

“Right now, Yaz,” began JJ, winding her arms around Yaz’s fur coat and resting her chin on her shoulder, “we’re standin’ in the kitchen. In fact, we’re probably smack bang in the centre of the island. Granite countertops up to our ribs. Natural light pourin’ in through the windows. Breathe in. Do it. Can you smell that? Freshly brewed coffee in the pot. Pancakes sizzling on the stove. Smells delicious, doesn’t it? 

Twisting her neck around to gauge JJ, Yaz lifted a palm to her forehead and frowned. “You feelin’ alright, babe? Half a mind to think you’re having a stroke.”

JJ grinned and pressed her lips to Yaz’s cold cheek. “This is it, ladybird. This is where I’m gonna build you your home.” 

“What?” Yaz’s head snapped back around and she regarded the clifftop with amended perception. She shook her head; an obvious effort to dispel her shock. “You’re… this is… oh my God.”

“Love it when I make you speechless,” JJ gloated. She peeled away from Yaz’s body and backed up across the hill, boots crunching dead leaves and frozen twigs as she went. Beaming, JJ turned her head to the sky. “This is the best view for miles and miles, Yasmin. I watched a dozen sunsets and a dozen sunrises in a dozen different places just to be sure. This is the one. I’ll have your bedroom windows facing that way.” She pointed towards the horizon. “When you wake up, you’ll have the sun pooling onto your sheets and you’ll be able to go out onto your balcony and look out at the city and all your troubles will seem a little smaller when you remember how big and beautiful the world is. And you’ll have all these hills right at your back. You can go out onto that rooftop garden you wanted and watch the sun slip behind them with a glass of wine and all your friends around you. All this space! You can do whatever you want! Throw a massive party. Run up to the valley or along the tracks — they’re just on the other side of those woods. You’re not too far from the city that you’ll feel lonely, but you’re far enough that you won’t feel closed in. Trapped. I wanted your house to be a haven, Yaz. And it’s gonna be.”

JJ could see, as she talked, that Yaz was picturing all the things she enthused about. Her eyes glazed over with imagining, and a daydream of a smile plucked at her lips. She wandered towards JJ as she drank it all in and reached, without looking, for her hand. 

“What do you think?” JJ asked. 

Yaz turned to her with a happy sigh. “I think it’s almost perfect.”

“Almost?” JJ frowned. “Well, almost isn’t good enough. What’s missing? I thought of everythin’. I was sure that I — okay, tell me what it is. Tell me what you need to make it absolutely, a million percent perfect. I’ll do it. Whatever it is. However long it takes.”

“What’s missing,” said Yaz, stepping right up to JJ, “is you.”

“Me?”

“I don’t want the sunlight to pool over my sheets in the morning, JJ. I want it to pool over _our_ sheets. I don’t want this view to belong to me, but to both of us. I’d rather watch the sunset with you than anyone else in the world. And I don’t wanna throw a party unless I get to pass out next to you afterwards.” Yaz looked upon the rolling hills and the mist shrouding their peaks with a faraway twinkle in her dark irises. “You’re the runner, babe. You can run along the tracks when you wake up and then run right back to me, and I’ll have a disgustingly sweet cup of coffee waiting for you. And I’ll fuck you in the shower. And we’ll talk about what we were gonna do that day. And we’ll miss each other every minute we’re apart, but then we’ll get to come home. We won’t miss each other anymore. And you best believe I’m fucking you again, too. Right on that granite counter. And we’ll cook dinner, we’ll talk; we’ll drink your fancy wine and watch a shitty film. Then we’ll go to bed, JJ. Right next to each other. Where we should be. And we’ll do it all again the next day.” 

It was JJ’s turn to be speechless. 

With the way those words had all just run out of Yaz’s mouth, like rapids running off a mountain’s edge, it was safe to say this wasn’t the first time she had entertained such fantasies. It wasn’t the first time she’d dreamed of sharing a home with JJ, thought about what that might look like; decided she liked the picture it painted. 

“Who are you,” muttered JJ, “and what have you done with Yasmin Khan?”

She wasn’t yet accustomed to this new Yaz. The Yaz that strived, every day, to not only acknowledge but return JJ’s emphatic adoration. To match it and then some. For so long, JJ had been used to giving more than she ever expected for herself; she’d never thought it was possible for someone to love her as much as she loved them. 

It was a fate she’d resigned herself to. Bitterly. Begrudgingly. Tragically. But now here Yaz stood with her hands around fate’s throat, turning its lips blue and then casting it off the cliff’s edge. 

Yaz slipped her hands around JJ’s waist beneath her coat and warmed her hands under the faux-fur lining; warmed JJ’s insides with a tender-hearted gaze; warmed the whole city with a smile. “I’m still me, babe. I think I’m just the version of me I were always s’posed to become before everything went wrong. Before I closed myself off. Before I met you. Does that sound weird?”

“Nah. I always knew your heart, Yasmin,” claimed JJ. She pressed a chapped kiss to Yaz’s forehead. “I’m just happy you’re finally getting to know it too.”

“Well, it’s got a lot to say these days.”

“Makin’ up for lost time, I reckon.” 

“Yeah, I reckon you’re right. So maybe we shouldn’t lose any more,” said Yaz. She swallowed, searching JJ with palpable apprehension. “I mean, d’you think this is something you’d want? To live with me? You’ve probably got ages to mull it over. How long’s it even take to build a—“

“Yaz, I can honestly think of nothin’ in the world that’d make me happier than to share a home with you,” JJ interrupted softly. “I’d be a liar to say I haven’t thought about it every day since I met you. I was only ever waiting for you to ask.”

Yaz didn’t look taken aback by JJ’s confession. Why should she? JJ had never made a secret of the depth of her devotion. Nonetheless, she closed her eyes and exhaled deeply through her nose — solaced. Liberated in love. By the time she opened her eyes again, JJ’s nose was nestled against hers and they were clinging tight to one another. What was space anyway? What was the cold anyway?

Myths. 

Blown away with a kiss. 

* * *

JJ hated the RIBA awards. 

She hated everything about them. She hated that her craft was turned into a competition, she hated winning; she hated losing; she hated getting up on stage; she hated making fake-polite conversation with arrogant old white men who had more money than heart. Unfortunately, being the co-founder of a prominent architecture firm, she and Jack were left with no choice but to represent their company annually. This year, one of JJ’s own designs was up for an award, so it would be especially improper not to show up.

But every cloud. 

JJ’s silver lining, that afternoon, emerged from the penthouse elevator wearing a mint corduroy pantsuit. Dark, straightened hair had been pulled into a low ponytail, and her ladybird pendant hung over the breast of her white tee. Yaz had agreed to attend the awards with her, along with Bill and Amy, for moral support — though JJ reckoned Bill was just in it for the reception afterwards. Free bar. How could she say no?

Frustratedly fighting with her bow tie in front of the wardrobe mirror, JJ didn’t even notice Yaz’s arrival until she was standing right behind her.

“Need a hand?” Yaz smirked.

“Yaz!” Abandoning her efforts, JJ spun around and greeted Yaz with a happy kiss and a warm hug. When she pulled away, they both took the chance to give the other a once over. “You look brilliant! Proper smart. That a new outfit?”

Busy appreciating JJ’s tuxedo — dark trousers whose hem grazed the cuff of her boots, crisp white shirt, a glimpse of suspenders beneath a long, grey jacket which cut off at her calves — Yaz didn’t immediately proffer an answer. Her pupils made a slow journey up to JJ’s loose bow tie. It was black, and decorated with small ladybirds. Yaz pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and JJ’s heart stirred. 

“How long do we have before the car gets here?”

“Five minutes,” said JJ. “Why?”

Yaz kissed her teeth. “Shame.”

Cheeks turning pink, JJ slipped her hands into her coat pockets and ducked her head. “Y’like the suit then?”

“You in a tux takes my mind to terrible places, babe,” murmured Yaz, reaching for JJ’s bow tie and folding the silk between her fingers as she worked it into a perfect bow. Once she was done, she ran her thumb over one of the ladybirds and smiled at JJ. “Nice touch.”

“Never go anywhere without my ladybird. Even got ‘em on my boxers!” exclaimed JJ with genuine excitement. “Took me ages to find a pair.”

“Well, we’re hard to come by.”

“You most certainly are, Yasmin Khan.”

Smiling, Yaz took JJ’s hands and leaned into one kiss, two kiss, three. JJ stole a fourth, and then wound her arms around Yaz’s waist. 

“Thanks for comin’ tonight.”

“Wouldn’t miss it, babe,” said Yaz. “How you feeling? Excited?”

JJ cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. Dead excited.” Before Yaz could poke any holes through her threadbare facade, JJ’s phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out to see a message from her driver. “Ah. Our carriage awaits, m’lady!”

Yaz cringed. “Leave it out.”

“Sorry. Can I at least take your arm?”

“So that’s why you wanted me to come with you. Bit of arm candy, yeah? Trophy on your side?”

“What? No! No, I… oh. You’re messin’ with me again, aren’t you?”

“And you’re learning.”

“I’ll get there.”

“It’s okay if you don’t. You’re cute when you’re confused.”

“Can I have a kiss then?”

“Save it for the carriage, Prince Charming.”

* * *

JJ tried as best she could to mask her amassing nerves. Unfortunately, for someone so accustomed to wearing their heart on their sleeve, her best wasn’t quite good enough. Not for Yaz’s perceptive eye, at any rate. 

For the duration of their drive to the venue, JJ was subdued and fidgety and hardly spoke unless spoken to. When they pulled up outside the hotel — a luxury, fifteen-storey high rise which was as wide as it was tall, and whose dining hall would play host to the Royal Institute of British Architects for the night — her palms were clammy and her blood pressure was through the roof. 

Stepping out onto the sidewalk into lashing rain, JJ fumbled to open her umbrella and then offered Yaz her hand. Yaz frowned when she took it. Standing nose to nose beneath the nylon canopy, Yaz tilted her head at JJ. 

“Babe, your palms are sweating like mad. Are you all right?”

“‘Course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” JJ glanced towards the entrance. She could discern a few familiar faces milling around on the steps, where they smoked cigarettes beneath the awning and caught up with the competition. “C’mon, let's get out of this rain and find the others, eh?”

“Wait,” said Yaz, tugging JJ’s sleeve to keep her from taking off. “I know you’ve been squeezing that stress ball in your pocket ever since we got in the car. And you clammed right up when we left your apartment. It’s all right if you’re anxious, JJ. You don’t have to hide it from me. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

JJ took an uneasy breath and looked down at her shoes. “It’s… I just don’t…” With a frustrated groan, JJ rolled her eyes at her own shortcomings while Yaz waited patiently for her to find the words. “It’s these people. This crowd. I’ve never really fit in with ‘em, y’know? It’s like this one big lads’ club — and your parents have to be somebodies and your money has to be old for you to qualify for a membership. It’s stupid. And sometimes they… well, I dunno. I can't always tell, can I? I’m probably wrong.”

“Sometimes they what?” asked Yaz, looking very much prepared to swing a fist in JJ’s name.

“Well, they talk to me, and it’s all dead polite and they all smile at me like we’re friends, but… but half the time I think they’re just makin’ fun of me. Laughing _at_ me when I think they’re laughing with me. And I know it’s dumb and I know I’m not a kid anymore and it shouldn’t even matter what people—“

“Stop.” Yaz put her hands on the shoulders of JJ’s coat. “Take a breath, yeah? Come on. Do it with me.” Together, they both took a handful of slow, deep breaths; with every drawn out exhale, JJ felt her jitters lessen. “Now what am I always telling you?”

JJ cracked a sly grin. “Don’t stop?”

“Are you twelve?”

“Couldn’t resist, sorry. Um… I dunno. What are you always tellin’ me?”

Yaz grabbed JJ’s shoulder and turned her towards the car still parked by the kerb. She nodded towards JJ’s reflection in the tinted, rain-streaked window. “What do you see when you look at yourself?”

“Could probably do with a trim, to be honest,” muttered JJ, twirling a lock of blonde hair between her fingers. 

“You’re not making this easy, babe,” Yaz sighed. “How about I tell you what I see when I look at you? ‘Cause what I see is a bloody rockstar. You came from nothin’, Jamie. You came from dirt. All those other rich, poncey pricks made it with daddy’s trust fund money and probably wouldn’t know what a hard day was if it kicked their teeth in. But you built your empire up with your own two hands. Now look at you: only in your thirties and already leaving ‘em all in the dust. You _earned_ your right to be here. You fought to be here, and you’ve bloody well got the scars to prove it. And you think they’re better than you? You think they’d still be standing if they’d lived your life? I don’t think so. ‘Cause _what_ am I always telling you?”

JJ gazed reverentially at Yaz’s reflection. “I’m Jamie Smith.”

“Didn’t hear you.”

“I said I’m Jamie Smith.”

“You can do better than that.”

JJ grinned. Twisting Yaz around, she stepped up to her as if to fight and grabbed the lapel of her jacket. “I… am Jamie. Fuckin’. Smith. And I deserve to be here.”

“Too right you do.” Yaz picked a speck of fluff from JJ’s collar and flicked it to the ground. “Now march in there and prove it to all those old crust buckets.” 

Loosening her hold on Yaz’s blazer, JJ shook her head slowly at her. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Pull me out like it’s nothin’.”

Yaz smiled. “You’re too modest, babe. You’re too humble. I mean, it’s great, and it’s one of the things I adore about you, but sometimes you just need reminding what a badass you are.” She lightly tickled JJ’s ribs and JJ squirmed away from her with a giggle. “A sexy badass.”

“So I’m a sexy, badass, rockstar?” JJ simpered. 

“Can’t think of anyone else I’d still wanna pounce on after showing up in a bow tie like that.”

“I thought you liked it!”

“I do.” Yaz adjusted it for her and then tapped her cheek fondly. “But only on you.”

* * *

Inside, the hall proved itself a spacious venue. There was a stage to the far end, where a projector screen had been dropped behind the lectern, and a sea of round tables occupied the main floor — most already full. The ceilings were tall and, above their heads, the second floor balcony encircled the perimeter of the room. Chandeliers hung low and potted plants sprouted high in every corner of the hall. 

They found the others already seated at their reserved table. Like JJ, Jack was donned in a dark, expensive tuxedo; unlike JJ, he looked a lot more at ease in their environment. He flirted shamelessly with both the fat-cats and the servers and sported the perpetual air of somebody who felt right at home wherever he went. 

Amy and Bill, seated next to one another, had also made something of an effort to dress up for the occasion. Bill was wearing a silk button-up — the top few buttons were undone and a couple of thin, silver chains hung around her neck — with a black bomber over it. When Amy shrugged her leather jacket off, Bill’s eyes immediately fell over the V-cut of her green jumpsuit. It took Yaz kicking her leg under the table for her to remember her manners, but not before Amy clocked her with a knowing smirk.

Bill got up and leaned over JJ’s chair just before the ceremony was due to begin. “Oi, you’ve gotta gimme a hand here, mate,” she whispered. “Am I barking up the wrong tree with Pond or what?”

“Maybe, Bill, not everyone’s as immune to your charms as you think they are,” shrugged JJ. 

“Yeah, right,” scoffed Bill. “Worked on you, didn’t they?” 

“Come again?” said Yaz, turning in her chair and glowering so fiercely at Bill that she practically shrunk. “If you don’t get back to your chair in the next three seconds, I’m gonna recount your entire sexual history loud enough for Amy to hear. Now piss off.”

Bill sniggered. On her way back to her chair, she gave Yaz an apologetic half-hug and a kiss on the cheek, ignoring Yaz’s attempts to shake her off. 

Having eavesdropped on the conversation, Jack waited for Bill to drop down beside Amy again before leaning in to whisper, rather loudly, “Hey, Bill. I picked you up all that stuff you wanted.”

Bill frowned. “What you on about?”

“You know…” Forever a disciple of the theatrics, Jack made a point of pretending to make sure nobody was listening in. In reality, everybody was — including Amy. “Two litre bottles of cranberry juice? That special rash cream? Antibiotics? Take it you had a wild weekend, huh?”

Beside Bill, Amy failed to suppress a laugh behind her fist. Bill’s panicked eyes darted across to her and she returned her gaze to Jack with no small measure of fury behind them. She gritted her teeth and took a deep breath. “If I was a less mature person, mate, I’d take your bait and shove my shoe so far up your arse you tasted leather. As it happens, I’m an adult, and you’re a child, and I don’t quite fancy having CPS show up at my door.”

Yaz cocked her head. “Oh, you’re an adult all of a sudden?”

“I’ll have you know, Yaz, that I am very mature for my age.” She turned to Amy. “Very mature.”

“Sure you are, kid,” indulged Amy, patting Bill on the shoulder. “Now hush up and drink your juice. Cranberry, was it?”

Bill’s cheeks flushed a darker shade. Just as she opened her mouth to respond, however, the speaker at the lectern tapped his mic and the room fell silent. She folded her arms and slumped sulkily in her chair, and the rest of the table shared a quiet laugh at her expense. 

After a lengthy introduction and a slideshow of some of the more remarkable architectural accomplishments up for awards that evening, the ceremony began in earnest. It wasn’t the most thrilling of events — they had to sit through dense speeches and jokes that fell flat and a technical issue with the projector — but, beside her, Yaz listened intently and never once gave any hints that she was bored or uninterested. She had her hand on JJ’s leg the whole time, which JJ supposed was meant to pacify her nerves. It was working. 

Smith and Harkness won a RIBA National Award for a mall they’d designed in Liverpool. Mercifully, Jack went up to accept the prize. His speech had the room in stitches. One of the last categories, the one JJ was shortlisted for, was for RIBA’s House of the Year. Yaz took JJ’s hand when the speaker ran through the nominees and her design appeared on the screen. It was Yaz’s house. Not yet built, but by far one of JJ’s finest residential works. 

“And the winner of this year’s House of the Year award is…” The speaker peeled open the envelope in his hands and pulled out the card within. There was a tense, dragged-out moment of silent anticipation. JJ could hear her heart in her ears. “Jamie Smith!”

The room erupted into applause. JJ froze. She hadn't expected to win; hadn’t even written a speech because, when she saw the other designs she was up against, she figured it to be a pointless endeavour. And now she had to get up there, in front of all these people, and say something. And not choke. And not make a total idiot of herself. For once. 

Whilst JJ got shakily to her feet, Jack clapped her on the back and the others all profusely congratulated her. She wiped her palms on her slacks and swallowed. Just before she made a move, however, Yaz wrapped her in a hug.

“Just look at me,” she whispered. “There’s no one else in the room, babe. Just look at me. I’m so proud of you. You’re a rockstar, remember?”

“Right. Rockstar.”

Yaz let her go and JJ made her way to the stage. She could feel hundreds of eyes tracking her every movement and did her best to ignore them all, focusing instead on putting one foot in front of the other and not falling on her face. When she got to the stage, she shook hands with the speaker and accepted her award — a heavy glass skyscraper with a plaque at the bottom. They’d engrave her name onto it later. The room was silent as a crypt when she set the award down on the stand and looked out at the sea of architects before her. 

Squinting against the spotlights, JJ picked Yaz’s face out of the crowd. She winked at her, and JJ returned her wink with the smallest of smiles. Like that, everybody else faded to nothing. She directed her speech at Yaz. 

“Um, I’m sorry I don’t have a speech prepared. I didn’t actually think I were gonna win. I’ll try to keep it short and sweet so we can all scarper off to the free bar after.” There were a few pockets of laughter scattered across the room. Yaz grinned at her. “But, I s’pose, if there is one thing I’m proud to have made this year, it’s the plans for this house. ‘Cause it isn’t just a house — not really. Just like the skyscrapers and the hotels and the arndales I design aren’t just buildings. Me, I don’t deal in bricks and steel. I deal in futures. 

Every blueprint an architect sketches is a dream realised. It begins as an idea, that’s all. Just a tiny little flame. It’s on us to nurture that flame. To make it bigger and brighter and blow it up ‘til it’s the size of a sun and just as impressive. 

Arguably, homes are the most important thing an architect can create. You’ve gotta think beyond the foundations and the fibre. You’ve gotta think about the lives lived inside those walls, and the memories they’ll make in the space you craft for ‘em. Picture ‘em in their day to day: they open their eyes on a Sunday mornin’ to autumn leaves tappin’ on the skylight, they share breakfast with a view of the misty hills, curl up on the sofa while the hearth burns in front of ‘em, play fetch with the dog in the privacy of their garden, fall into bed with the person they love. You’re creatin’ the backdrop for all of these scenes. Manipulatin’ the mood and the atmosphere. You’re there. You have to imagine you are. 

They might not notice the meticulous strokes of your pen along the seams of their walls, or every jotted down equation in the margins of their bathroom, or the countless hours you bleed into every last stone, but that’s the point. All you want ‘em to think, when they walk through that front door, is that this is home. This is the place I wanna fill with my family and my love, and this is the roof I want over my head when thunder breaks. 

So an architect's job, really, is just to dream; to wear a thousand different faces and care fiercely about all of them — but forgive me if I do care a little bit more about the face I created this house for. If you’re lucky enough to see it this evenin’, I’m sure you’ll understand. It’s a very lovely face. 

The house, in many ways, I modelled after the woman. It’s tough and it’s built to endure. It’s gorgeous, it’s modern; it’s dependable; it’s so far above the city that the lot of us look like ants in comparison, and she’s always been a step above the rest. More than anythin’, the house isn’t a house. Like I said, it’s a future, and that’s what she is to me. She’s my future. With that said…” JJ raised her glass skyscraper and beamed at Yaz. “Yasmin Khan, I dedicate this award — with all my heart — to you. The woman I dream for.”

When JJ returned to their table, where Bill was pretending to wipe tears from her eyes, Yaz hardly waited for her to sit down before leaning into her ear. “I hope this suit weren’t too expensive,” she murmured, toying with one of her shirt buttons. 

“Why’s that?” breathed JJ. 

“‘Cause I’m tearing it right off your skin the second we get out of here.”

JJ bit her lip against a smirk. “S’pose it’s a good thing I booked us a room upstairs then, eh?” she said, plucking a room key from her wallet pocket. Yaz’s eyes danced darkly over the key and it was JJ’s turn to whisper in her ear. “If I’m bein’ honest, ladybird, I knew y’were a sucker for a suit. The speech were really just the cherry on top.”

Yaz pulled back and searched JJ with a confused smile on her face. “So you just said all that to get in my pants, is that right?”

“Oh, absolutely. Girls love a speech, don’t they?”

“Carry on and you’ll be sleeping in that hotel room alone tonight, babe.”

“Nah,” grinned JJ. “You couldn’t resist me if you tried.”

* * *

Following the ceremony, the attendees all moved on to the bar for the afterparty. It was a pretty modern, trendy affair: the bottles at the back bar were shelved behind sliding, multicoloured panes of glass illuminated from behind, and most of the interior was exposed brick — save the external wall, which was made from glass and led out onto a terrace with a view of the courtyard below. Overhead, vines and other greenery had been woven through the beams, lending a more relaxed atmosphere to the scene. The sofas and booths were fast to fill up. Unsurprisingly, a queue formed promptly at the bar. 

JJ was soon pulled away from the others by a host of architects waiting to offer false congratulations and interrogate her about how business was doing. It set her teeth on edge (if she ever went under, they’d all be the first to throw a party) but she knew she had to grin and bear it. 

Presently, she was standing by the window and stuck in the middle of one such agonising conversation — with a man who’d lost out on House of the Year to her. 

“Very well done, I have to say. It’s an impressive house,” he commended with a smile that didn’t reach his spectacled eyes. “The competition was fierce though. I mean, I think I speak for a lot of people here when I say I was just as surprised as you were when they called out your name.”

JJ clenched her jaw. “Is that right?”

“Not to say you didn’t deserve it! It’s a beautiful architectural feat. Very, um… oh, what’s the word I’m looking for?” He snapped his fingers. “Quaint. That’s right. It’s got a simplicity to it, hasn't it?”

Eyes glazing over, JJ sipped her scotch and let the burn of it singe away any bitter rebuttals teetering on the edge of her tongue. Then, in the corner of her eye, she spotted Yaz making her way over. Boredom yielded to glee and she beckoned her over with a broad smile. 

“Hiya, Yaz!” greeted JJ, holding out her hand for Yaz to take. “Yasmin, this is Paul Gulliver. He works at Straussman and Associates over in London. Paul, this is Yaz.”

Paul peered down his nose at Yaz. “Right. The woman you _dream_ for,” he echoed with pinched lips. He didn’t bother offering his hand. “Jamie must adore you to be spending so much money on building you a house. How did the two of you meet?”

JJ opened her mouth to answer, but Yaz cut in before she got a chance. “We met through mutual friends,” she answered hastily. JJ frowned at her but, if Yaz felt inquisitive eyes on her, she didn’t acknowledge them. 

“Really?” Suspicious, Paul glanced between them. JJ kept her mouth shut; if Yaz was lying, she must have had her reasons. “And what is it you do for a living, Yaz?”

“I’m a performer.” Not quite a lie, but she was omitting a great many details.

It seemed to JJ that there was some kind of social dance taking place between them, albeit one she’d never bothered to learn the steps of. She studied the respondent curl of Paul’s lips with a curious frown, unable to tell if he was smiling or sneering. 

That is, until he nudged JJ’s elbow with his own and chuckled a conspiratorial, “I suppose circumstances such as yours are why prenups exist, eh?”

And suddenly JJ understood. 

She understood that Paul hadn’t been asking about Yaz’s life because he was genuinely interested, but because he was searching for another reason to mock JJ. She understood that Yaz hadn’t been lying because she was embarrassed, but because she didn’t want to give any more ammunition to these people for fear of JJ succumbing to another bout of anxiety. 

But anxiety isn’t what JJ felt in that moment. It was one thing for men like Paul to laugh and joke at her expense; it was another entirely for them to involve Yaz. That, she couldn’t wash away with another sip of scotch. 

“Excuse me?” she bristled, dropping Yaz’s hand and taking a small step towards Paul.

“Babe, it’s fine,” sighed Yaz. She tried to put her hand on JJ’s elbow but JJ shook it off.

“Apologies, Paul,” seethed JJ, “but we haven’t been very honest with you. Wanna know the truth, mate? Yaz and I didn’t meet through mutual friends. Actually, we met at a strip club. Yaz danced for me, I took her home, we had mind blowin’ sex, and then I flew her around the world — where we continued to have mind blowin’ sex at every destination. And yeah, I offered her everythin’. All I wanted to do was give and give and give, and I’d probably have given up everythin’ I’ve ever worked for if she hadn’t stopped me. See, it weren’t Yaz that chased me, Paul. It were the other way around. And she refused me at every turn; refused and refused until she didn’t anymore. ‘Til I wore her down.

Even to this day. she never asks for a thing. She doesn’t expect. She doesn’t demand. I provide because that’s what you do for the people you love. You take care of them, and they take care of you. Which she does. She takes care of me in more ways than I can count. She loves me, Paul. I’m as shocked as you, but it’s true. And after this party, I’m gonna take her upstairs and make her happier than you ever made all three of your wives combined. Oh, hang on, is it your third or fourth divorce you’re currently settlin’ at the moment? I lose track, to be honest.”

Slack-jawed and red-faced, Paul stared speechlessly at JJ, who cleared her throat, smoothed down her jacket, and then bid him goodbye with a curt nod of her head. She hardly made it two steps before Yaz’s hand closed around hers. 

JJ turned. 

She was met with two eyes so black with lust they drained all the virtue and all the modesty from the room at once. 

Next thing, JJ was being slammed up against the tiled wall of a restroom cubicle. Yaz’s mouth was at her throat; her thigh pressed firm between JJ’s. JJ grunted and held tight to Yaz by her waist. 

“Where’s this comin’ from?” she panted. “Not that I’m complainin’ or owt. Just curious.”

Yaz untucked JJ’s shirt and slipped her hand beneath her sports bra, needily groping a soft breast like rough wasn’t rough enough. “You’re hot when you’re angry,” she answered. The words came out muffled against JJ’s neck. When Yaz drove her leg up harder against her crotch, JJ dug her fingers into her ribs and grinded against her thigh with a quiet moan. 

“ _Oh_ — am I?”’ 

“You are.” Yaz yanked JJ away from the wall, dragged her coat off, tossed it over the hook on the back of the door, and forced her right back up against the tiles. JJ thought she was leaning in for a kiss, but her advance came to a halt just before hungry lips could meet hungry lips. “You’re different, lately. There’s something about you. Dunno what it is, but it’s driving me crazy. I think… I think it might be confidence.”

JJ gazed openly at Yaz’s mouth. “You were there when I almost had a panic attack earlier, right?”

“I was,” smiled Yaz. “And look at you now.”

“Think you’re rubbin’ off on me, Yasmin Khan.”

“I will be in a minute.”

JJ’s head thudded against the wall when their mouths slammed together. She chased Yaz’s tongue with her own while they both worked to peel the suspenders off her shoulders; once they hung free, Yaz wasted no time in unclasping her trousers. She licked upwards along JJ’s lips, tasting cherry-Coke sweet and seven kinds of sinful. JJ sighed. 

“You do know the room I booked for this very purpose is waitin’ for us upstairs, right?” she mumbled against Yaz’s hot mouth.

“Just consider this a starter, babe.” Yaz sunk her hand inside JJ’s boxers and ran her fingers along the length of her. Finding her to be good and ready, she hiked one of her legs up around her hips. 

Breathless, JJ laughed. “Excited to see what the main looks like.”

“Wait ‘til you see what’s for dessert.”

Without further adieu, Yaz plunged a finger all the way inside of her. She hit the ground running. While Yaz fingered her, deep and fast and hard, JJ gripped her hair by its ponytail and panted heavily into her mouth — which flirted with her own but never made a move. 

They heard the bathroom door swing open. Footsteps. The closing and locking of a cubicle door next but one to their own. Yaz grinned and didn’t slow. 

Desperate not to make a sound, JJ buried her face into Yaz’s neck and smothered herself with her skin and her heady scent, pressing her lips to her throat but lacking the cognisance to do much else. The danger of getting caught elicited a greater rousing of JJ’s loins and Yaz’s hand was greeted with another sticky, silken rush of heat. JJ thought she was holding it together pretty well. 

Until Yaz zeroed in on her clit. 

Entirely by accident, JJ’s teeth sunk into Yaz’s throat. Yaz was fortunate that her successive hiss of pain coincided with the flushing of a toilet, concealing their scandalous affair from prying ears. JJ’s eyes were wide with apology when she dared to look up at Yaz’s face. Yaz only breathed a silent laugh — she was far more forgiving of late. When they heard their intruder exit the bathroom, Yaz cupped JJ’s chin and kissed her, and again they were both free to grunt and sigh and purr.

“I think — _fuck,_ Yaz — I think you’re different lately, too,” heaved JJ, wishing she’d thought to loosen her bow tie and collar before Yaz got her hands on her. 

“Yeah? How’s that?” wondered Yaz. She didn’t relent between JJ’s thighs and JJ felt herself ascending a little more with every firm stroke of her fingers. Yaz wasn’t even looking at JJ; she was watching her own hand work inside her boxers. JJ couldn’t say why that drove her ever further towards an immense and imminent plunge. She only knew that it did. 

JJ ground her jaw and pressed her furrowed brow to Yaz’s forehead, gasping her way to the edge. “You — you love me kinder,” she whimpered. 

“Doesn’t take much, babe,” grunted Yaz, lifting JJ’s head and holding it against the wall by her hair so that she could watch her when she came. Not long now. “Didn’t love you very kindly to begin with, did I? You almost there?”

“No — I mean, yes, but — oh, fuck.” 

Unable to get her point across in time, JJ surrendered her ability to articulate with a throaty rumble and let herself stumble gracelessly from the precipice of composure. She convulsed in the throes of her ecstasy, biting down hard on the back of her hand to curb a moan. Yaz’s fist in her hair tightened and her fingers quickened and she didn’t ease JJ through her orgasm, she dragged her through it by her short and curlies, panting hotly onto her cheek and gazing at her all the while. 

JJ loved it when Yaz watched her like that; when she was the sole witness to her most vulnerable state and drank her in as if she were a dark, delicious wine she wanted to savour every drop of. 

When it was over, JJ slumped against the wall with eyes half closed and an ache in her gut. Yaz kept watching her for a minute. Their eyes met, one pair foggy and one pair just as intense and predatory as ever, and then Yaz pulled out her hand. Still catching her breath, JJ began to tuck her shirt back in while Yaz cleaned her fingers on some tissue paper. 

“What I were tryna say before,” started JJ, accepting her coat from Yaz when she unhooked it from the door and handed it back, “isn’t that you love me kinder than you used to. I mean, you do, but — but what I really meant is that no one I’ve been with before has been like this with me.”

Yaz leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. “Like what?”

“Like… like you see me, and you know me, and you actually like every new thing you learn.” JJ straightened out her collar and, after a glance at the state of her hair, Yaz stepped up to her to smooth it down. JJ smiled. “You pay attention. You notice when my hands are sweating and when I’m tryna hide my stress. You know all the right things to say. You don’t try to change me. Do you know how rare that is for me? To meet someone who doesn’t try to change a single thing about me? Before, when we weren’t really together, I used to try and imagine what it’d be like to be loved by you. It didn’t look like this.”

For one reason or another, Yaz wasn’t looking JJ in the eye. She just kept fixing her hair. JJ knew part of her still felt guilty about how it all transpired, but she needn’t have. JJ didn’t hold it against her. 

“Yaz,” whispered JJ. She gently pulled Yaz’s hand away, so Yaz looked at the floor instead. “For someone who’s never been in love before, you’re incredible at it. That’s all I wanna say. Your love’s different than anyone else’s, and it’s better than anyone else’s, and it’s mine. It’s not some kinda brand new confidence that inspires me to give speeches and bite the heads off judgemental old men, it’s what we have. It’s my absolute faith in it, and my willingness to protect it no matter what. I’d do anythin’ for you, Yasmin. Truly.”

Yaz scraped her gaze up off the floor at long last. She looked at JJ with a hint of a smile around the eyes. “Anything?”

“Absolutely.”

“What if I killed someone? Would you help me bury the body?”

“I — oh, um. Well. Did they deserve it?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, no. I s’pose it doesn’t.” Deliberating, JJ chewed her lip. “Well, it’s a good thing we’ve been watchin’ all those true crime shows then, eh? Reckon we’ve picked up a thing or two about how to get away with murder.”

Yaz laughed. “Don’t worry, babe. I’d probably just call Bill if I had a body to bury.”

JJ frowned. “No. Call me.”

“Like you wouldn’t turn green the second you saw it? I don’t think you have the stomach for corpse disposal, JJ.”

“But I’d bear it. For you, I’d bear it.” JJ held out her pinky finger. “Promise it’s me you call.”

“I’m not gonna kill anyone, babe.”

“Just promise me. Whatever happens, whatever you do and however bad it is, I’m the one you come to.”

After a beat, Yaz curled her little finger around JJ’s. “Of course it’s you. You’re my ride or die.”

JJ kissed Yaz’s finger and grinned. “Emphasis on the ride.”

“You really are a child sometimes.”

“A child you love.”

“Don’t make this weird.”

“Sorry.”

Yaz hooked her fingers around JJ’s suspenders and dragged her close. “For the record, babe, you make loving easy. I thought it were gonna be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I really thought… I dunno, I thought the world would end if I actually let myself go there with anyone. But you’re not just anyone, so take some credit where it’s due. If I’m loving you the best you’ve ever been loved, it’s only ‘cause you’re finally getting the love you’ve always deserved. You understand? I only love like this for you. If anything ever happened, and we weren’t together anymore—“

“That’s never—“

“ _If_ it ever did, I’d never love anyone like this again. I wouldn’t want to. I only want you, and if I can’t have you, then I don’t want anyone. What would be the point? I’d spend my whole life knowing I already lost the only person worth having.”

But for the steady drip of a leaking faucet, the restroom was silent for a charged few seconds. Then JJ took Yaz by the hands, walked her slowly back up to the wall, and kissed her. 

It was a lovely kiss, as far as bathroom stall kisses went. It meant far more than either could say. 

“So…” JJ’s fingers found Yaz’s fly; she unzipped it centimetre by centimetre as she leaned into Yaz’s ear. “What you’re sayin’ is that you wanna spend the rest of your life with me?”

Yaz watched JJ make torturously slow work of her zipper. “Think I made it pretty clear what I were saying.”

“D’you hear what I hear, ladybird?” 

“What?”

Creeping her hand into Yaz’s trousers, JJ smiled with all her teeth. “Weddin’ bells.”

“Jamie—“

“One day, Yasmin.” JJ kissed Yaz on the cheek and hoisted her leg up around her hip. “One day.” 

* * *

Flushed and shameless, Yaz and JJ emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later. JJ’s worries that their absence might have been noticed were extinguished the second Yaz nudged her side and nodded towards the balcony. 

Outside, Bill and Amy were leaning against the parapet; Bill had an arm around Amy’s waist and was pointing towards the sky and the stars. Apparently she had a thing for astronomy, which JJ might have figured from the ink sleeving her arms. Upon their approach to the terrace doors, Yaz and JJ watched Amy turn to smile at Bill; watched Bill catch her eye and hold it; watched them both lean in. 

“Maybe we should leave ‘em to it,” proposed JJ, averting her eyes half a second before their mouths met. 

“Are you mad? I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this ever since Paris.” With an impish twitch of her lips, Yaz raised a fist to the glass door and rapped her knuckles against it. 

Bill and Amy sprang apart like two magnets repelled. When Bill spun around to locate her intruder, the respondent daggers she sent Yaz’s way were liable to shatter the window separating them, but Yaz only winked and offered up her middle finger by way of apology. Amy, pink in the cheeks, turned away and necked the rest of her drink. 

“Karma’s a bitch,” muttered Yaz. 

JJ tried her best not to laugh, but it proved a challenge when Bill almost tripped over herself scurrying to follow Amy back inside the bar. 

“Nobody say a word,” Amy instructed as she walked through the door and passed them by without making eye contact with either of them. “I’m getting another drink.”

Bill stopped just across the threshold and watched her go helplessly. “Shit.” She rounded on Yaz. “What the fuck, mate? Know how much grafting I had to do just to get a kiss out of her? What have I ever done to you?”

“You want a list?”

“God, being your best mate is bloody hard work sometimes,” groused Bill. She stared longingly towards the bar, boring holes into the back of Amy’s red hair and taking a bitter sip of her beer. “If I never get so much of a peck out of her again, you owe me one.”

“What, a kiss?” Yaz hooked her fingers through Bill’s belt loops and pulled her in. “Come on them. Pucker up.”

“Ugh.” Bill shoved Yaz away from her with an exaggerated eye roll. “You missed your chance with me, Yaz. I’m onto bigger and better things now. Offer’s still on the table for JJ though, if — ow!” shouted Bill, rubbing the spot between her eyebrows where Yaz flicked her. 

“One of these days, Bill, you’re gonna learn,” chuckled JJ, slinging her arm around Yaz’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to her temple. 

Bill shrugged. “I’ve seen the size of your bed, mate. You’ve defo room for a little one in there. You know, if the two of you ever decide to spice things up a bit.”

“You aren’t that little,” said Yaz.

“Oi!”

“And we definitely don’t need help spicing things up,” added JJ. “But if we do…”

“You’ll be the last person we call, mate.”

Bill threw her hands up and a few drops of beer sloshed out of her bottle. “Can’t bloody win. You two don’t know what you’re missing, trust me. These fingers have got a five star review on Yelp,” she claimed, wiggling her fingers for effect. 

“Hate to interrupt whatever this is,” said Jack, appearing from behind and prompting all three of them to turn their heads, “but I’ve just been on the phone with Ma. She asked after you, Jamie, but, uh…” He eyed Yaz and JJ knowingly. “I told her you were occupied.”

JJ and Yaz swapped a caught-red-handed smirk. “Everythin’ all right at home?” asked JJ. 

“Yeah, she just wanted to know how the awards went. Wanted me to tell you how proud of you she is. No such sentiments were offered to _me_ , I might add,” grumbled Jack. “She asked about Christmas, too. Wondered if you were still coming and if you planned on bringing anybody.”

“Oh.” JJ cleared her throat and her arm slipped from around Yaz’s shoulders. “What — what did you tell her?”

“Said you’d call her yourself in the morning. What do I look like, a carrier pigeon?” 

“Um. Right, well I were gonna wait and ask another time, but…” Wringing her hands behind her back, JJ turned to Yaz. “So, I know you don’t celebrate Christmas, but I’m gonna be spending the holiday at my parents’ house and I thought — well, I’d really, really like it if you’d come with us. I could tell them to tone down all the, y’know, merriment and everythin’. I’m sure they won’t mind. I just — I’m dead excited for you to finally meet ‘em, and I don’t get much of a chance to visit otherwise.”

“You want me to meet your parents?” asked Yaz. “Really?”

“Does that surprise you?”

“I mean… a bit, yeah.” Yaz’s eyes darted towards Bill — who was staring absently into the neck of her beer — and her face softened with something akin to sympathy. JJ didn’t often see Yaz look at Bill that way. “I’d love to, babe, but I usually do something with Bill around that time.”

“Don’t be daft, Yaz,” scoffed Bill. “I’m not gonna be the one to stand in the way of you meeting the parents for the first time. Can't wait to hear all about _that_. You ever been brought home to mummy and daddy before?”

“Bill—“

“Seriously, mate. Go for it. It’s fine.” She offered up a breezy, really rather convincing, smile, and then nodded her head towards the balcony. “Bit stuffy in here. Gonna get a bit more air; maybe stand around looking pensive so Amy’ll think I’m all cool and mysterious.”

“Or just constipated,” murmured Jack, but Bill had already turned away. 

Yaz watched her go with a concerned frown worrying her features. “Jack, d’you mind if I talk to JJ for a minute?”

“Well, why don’t you just corral her into the restroom again?” 

“Jack,” chided JJ.

“Alright, alright! Guess I’ll go grab a few whiskeys.”

“Yaz doesn’t drink whiskey.”

“Good thing they’re all for me.”

Once they were alone, Yaz put her hand on the small of JJ’s back and walked with her to one of the standing tables nearby. “So, about Bill.” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Bill was still outside, and then faced JJ with a sigh. “Look, I’ve never really mentioned it before ‘cause it’s never come up, and it isn’t really my place to say, but the holidays are kind of a shitty time of year for her. She has a load of mates, you know, but most of ‘em are really just people she knows. And her family…”

“She has a foster mum, doesn’t she?” asked JJ.

“Yeah, but they don’t really get on. I mean, they don’t even talk. Bill jokes about it, but it sounds like her mum’s more interested in the conveyor belt of men coming in and out of her life than she’s ever been in her.”

“I see.” JJ looked past Yaz towards Bill, who was doing a pretty good job of looking appropriately pensive. Knowing what she now knew, it seemed less likely that she was putting it on for Amy’s sake. 

JJ was fortunate that she eventually found the family she did, but she was all too aware that not all could be so lucky. She felt bad for never having asked about Bill’s family before, and even worse for flaunting her own in front of her so brazenly, especially since she knew well what it meant to be lonely during the holidays; to feel like the least important person in everybody’s life. Bill shouldn’t have to go through that. JJ wouldn’t let her. 

“Do you mind if I…” JJ gestured towards the balcony. 

“What you gonna say?”

“No one who’s got family has any reason to be spending Christmas alone. Bill has a family. She’s got all of us. It’s not happenin’.”

Yaz paused. “Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Oh.” JJ smiled humbly when Yaz leaned in to kiss her jaw. “I love you too.”

Outside, the air was frosty but still. The rainfall had since stopped, but the courtyard gardens below glistened where fat raindrops clung to the grass and the hedges, catching the orange light spilling out from the windows of the hotel. It was as quiet down there as it was out on the balcony; most opting for comforting warmth over biting cold. 

Bill was leaning over the balustrade with eyes glazed over, absently swirling her beer around. Only when she heard the door slide shut behind JJ did she expel any remnants of despondence with her trademark roguish smirk. “Here she is, woman of the hour.” Bill raised her bottle towards JJ. “Feel free to invite me to more of these things. I do enjoy a free bar.”

JJ’s smile was thin when she leaned her back to the parapet beside Bill. “I just wanted to apologise, Bill. I didn’t realise you and Yaz had your own tradition.”

“Nah, it’s not a tradition. Honestly. Yaz doesn’t celebrate and I never really want to, so we usually just get pissed up by ourselves and watch a couple of lame movies. I can do that just fine on my own. Or, hey, there’s always Tinder. Old reliable.”

“Doesn’t sound very festive. Sounds kinda lonely, actually, and Yaz would never leave you to that. Neither would I.”

“Mate, I’m telling you, it’s not a big deal.”

JJ turned around and steepled her hands together atop the rail, watching an old man in a fedora and raincoat rush across the pathway below with hunched shoulders. “Don’t forget, Bill, I know exactly where you are. I’ve been there myself. Comin’ from someone who spent several Christmases askin’ Santa for a friend to spend it with, I know it kind of is a big deal.”

“Oh, JJ, has no one had the talk with you yet?” Bill put her hand on JJ’s shoulder. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, but Santa’s not real. I know. It’s a tough pill to swallow. Take all the time you need.”

“You’re makin’ it really hard to be nice to you,” claimed JJ, though she recognised Bill’s efforts at deflection. She empathised with them.

“I’m just teasing, mate. Look, I’ll probably just end up picking up an extra shift at the club. They can always use an extra pair of hands at Christmas, and it’ll at least keep me busy.”

“The club…” JJ shook her head. “Y’know, Yaz used to think that place was all she were good for at one point. She made it out. Have you considered—“

“JJ, I’m not your bird, all right?” snapped Bill. “I’m not Yaz. I don’t need your speeches about following my dreams and chasing the stars and what have you, so just save your breath. I’m a bartender. I pull pints and I look good doing it. That’s perfectly fine with me.”

“Okay,” desisted JJ. “Regardless. you aren’t spendin’ the holidays alone. And you definitely aren’t workin’.”

“Mate—“

“Come with us. Stay with my family for Christmas. We’ve got more than enough room for you.”

The muscles in Bill’s jaw flexed and she polished off the last of her beer. “Don’t need your pity, ta.”

“Christ, Bill, it isn’t pity. You’re Yaz’s friend. You’re _my_ friend — even if I wanna throttle you sometimes. Aren’t friends meant to look out for each other? Wouldn’t you do the same for me if I were in your shoes?” 

Bill looked sidelong at JJ. “Your folks aren’t gonna want some random stray showing up at their door.”

“Don’t forget, I was a stray at their door once. They’re good people, Bill. I promise. Orphan’s honour.” She nudged Bill’s ribs with her elbow. “Us waifs have gotta look out for each other, eh?”

“Yeah, right,” mumbled Bill. “Doesn’t it ever piss you off though?”

“What?”

“I mean, why us? Why is this our lot, and how come other people got to be so lucky? Not that I’d wish it on anyone else, obviously, but I also don’t wish it on myself. It gets me so angry sometimes. Look at Yaz,” Bill went on, pointing her thumb over her shoulder. “She’s got a whole family waiting for her and she doesn’t even understand how incredible that is. I just wanna grab her sometimes and scream at her. So they fight. So what? They only fight ‘cause they love each other. I’d bloody well kill for that.”

JJ sought out Yaz through the window. She was sharing a drink with Amy on one of the sofas when, as if feeling JJ’s eyes on her, she turned her head and held her glass up towards her. JJ smiled back at her. 

“I think it’s probably easy for us to assume that any problems a family has can be solved simply by the fact that they love one another,” reckoned JJ, “but there are usually a lot more factors involved. Yaz is lucky, yeah — but so are we, in a lot of ways. We get to choose our family. Doesn’t matter about blood and genetics. Sod that. What matters is that we take care of each other; that we don’t abandon one another like the world abandoned us. So, just in case no one’s said it in a while, you matter a lot to me. I mean that, mate.”

“Are you flirting with me?” Bill joked, albeit weakly. Reluctant, she forced herself to acknowledge the sincerity on JJ’s face. Her shoulder sagged when their eyes met. “Yeah, all right. You matter to me too, moneybags.” 

Irises brightly twinkling, JJ bounced on the toes of her boots. “So you’ll come with us? For Christmas?”

Bill pitched a weary sigh. “Will there be alcohol?”

“Plenty.”

“Then how can I refuse?”

JJ grinned and barrelled into Bill with an overeager hug that sent them both staggering into the parapet. With a shocked laugh, Bill returned JJ’s hug. If JJ wasn’t mistaken, she was clinging just as tight. 

“This is gonna be an _ace_ Christmas,” JJ enthused into Bill’s mess of curly hair.

“Just don’t catch me under any mistletoe, mate.”

“Do my best.” 

When they pulled away, Bill — still laughing — ruffled JJ’s hair affectionately. JJ beamed and allowed it. 

“Oh, one more thing. You will be expected to wear an ugly sweater on the day.”

“No worries, JJ. I’ll just borrow one of yours.”

“Oi.”

Snickering, Bill put her arm around JJ’s shoulders and they headed back towards the bar. “Now where’s Pond got to? I do believe we have some unfinished business.”

* * *

It was the middle of the afternoon on Christmas Eve when JJ, Yaz, Jack, and Bill all piled out of Jack’s car onto the wide, stone driveway of Darillium Manor. 

A cold mist enveloped the impressive gothic structure, enshrouding it in a Hitchcockian air of daunting intrigue. The vast building, whose facade overlooked a well-tended garden with a concrete fountain for a centrepiece, eclipsed the white sun and cast an inescapable shadow over them. With its pointed arch windows, battlements atop the outermost walls, and steeply pitched gables, it closer resembled a fortress than a house. JJ liked that about it. Fortresses were impenetrable. Safe. 

A gargoyle hanging from one of the pinnacles pointed with taloned hands across the treetops and towards two grassy peaks in the distance. Someone had put an elf hat on its head. 

Whilst Jack and JJ unloaded everyone’s bags, Bill and Yaz stared, in awe, at the manor. 

“Bloody hell, look at that thing,” uttered Bill. “Why do I feel like this is the opening scene of a horror movie? If any of you white folks bring out a Ouijia board, I’m gone.”

“Wait — Jamie, you did tell her this place was haunted, right?” asked Jack. 

Bill whirled around so fast she was practically a blur. “What? Oh, no. Absolutely not. I’m leaving. I don’t fuck with spirits unless they come in a bottle.”

“It’s true! Legend has it that there’s a ghost walking these halls with a particular vendetta against loudmouth, borderline alcoholic cockneys. Sneaks into their rooms at night and steals all their booze.”

“Mate, if I wake up and all my booze is missing, I ain’t blaming no ghost.”

Leaving Jack to wind Bill up with a resigned laugh, JJ brought Yaz her case and joined her in gazing up at the rose window inset into the front of the house. Every cell in JJ’s body was charged with excitement. If she were able, she’d be down here every weekend. She loved it here. As it happened, work occupied most of her time, and Yaz the rest. Plus, her parents were avid travellers. They didn’t like to be cooped up at home for too long when there was so much of the world waiting to be explored; a trait JJ very much shared in. 

But she was here now, and she was about to introduce her favourite people in the whole world to one another, and it was Christmas, and when her cold hand found Yaz’s cold hand and their fingers slotted together, JJ felt that ever-coveted sense of finally coming home wash over her. 

Except Yaz wasn’t smiling like JJ was. In fact, her body was tense and her mouth was set in a straight line. 

JJ squeezed her hand. “Everthin’ okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” said Yaz. She shrugged. “Just never been in this situation before. You know, like, meeting someone’s parents and actually caring what they’re gonna think of me. I’ve never exactly been a take-her-home-to-mum kind of girl.”

“Trust me, Yasmin, you’ve nothin’ to worry about. They’re gonna adore you.”

“What if I say the wrong thing? Act the wrong way? Shit, do they even know how we met?”

JJ rubbed the back of her own shoulder with a slight wince. “Thought it’d be best to have that conversation face to face.”

“Oh, brilliant,” sighed Yaz. “So I’ve got that to look forward to. God, they’re gonna think I’m a total gold digger.”

“No they’re not. They’re gonna see how in love we are, and they’re gonna love you too. I’ve got your back in there, okay?”

“How much have you told them about me?”

“I’ve told them what you mean to me. That’s enough,” said JJ. “Now come on. We’re gonna freeze if we stand out here any longer.”

Together, the four of them made their way up to the house. As they ascended the steps leading onto the porch, the heavy wooden door swung open with a grating squeal of hinges. Emerging from the inviting, sunlit-glow of the foyer was a short, round man with alabaster skin and a bald head. He wore a knitted, earth-red coat over a white shirt and his squinty eyes honed in on Jack straight away. 

“Oh, here we go,” sighed Jack. “Hey, Nardole! Love what you’ve done with your hair. Are you using a new shampoo?”

“ _You_ , mister,” began Nardole, pointing a stubby finger at Jack, “are late!” His angry features laxed when he spotted JJ. “Hello, Jamie. Lovely to see you, as always.”

“Hiya, mate,” grinned JJ. “Bill, Yaz, this is Nardole. Works for our parents and helps around the house. He’s great.”

“Glorified butler, basically,” sniped Jack.

“I am _not_ a butler!” Nardole protested. “What’s your excuse this time, then? Another one of your endless entanglements hold you up?” 

“Why are you singling me out? We all arrived together!” 

Nardole crossed his arms. “Did you drive?”

“Well, yeah, but—“

“I’ve been standing in the foyer waiting to greet you for over an hour! I felt like a bloody coat rack standing there. My bunions don’t approve of long periods of standing. I’m in a great deal of discomfort right now, I’ll have you know.”

“Charming,” Bill mumbled. 

Jack cringed. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“The professor told me I was to welcome you upon your arrival. Unlike you, I don’t make a habit of letting her down.”

“Ah, home sweet home,” cracked Jack. “C’mere buddy, I missed your adorable little face.”

When Jack went in for a hug, Nardole, impossibly, turned an ever paler shade of white. “No, no, don’t even think about—“ His objections went in vain. Jack squeezed his arms around Nardole and lifted him off the floor with ease, leaving his legs kicking in the air while he suffered through the ordeal. When Jack set him back down, he straightened out his clothes with a vexed huff. At last, he turned to Bill and Yaz. “And which of these is the latest of your unfortunate conquests?”

Yaz choked on her next breath. “Think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Actually,” Jack said smugly, “they both belong to JJ. Despicable, right?”

“Uh, I think you’ll find we don’t,” corrected Bill. 

But Nardole was already softening. “Well, Jamie always did have excellent taste in companions.”

JJ cast a self-satisfied smirk Jack’s way. Nardole had been working with their mum since before Jack was even born and, as such, they both had known him ever since they were kids. He’d always had more of a soft spot for JJ, which was the source of endless frustration for Jack. 

“Right. Come along then!” Nardole waved them all inside. “Leave your bags by the door, I’ll sort them. Arthur wants me to sweep for spyware. Never know who might be after his research, after all. No offence, ladies — I’m sure you’re both stand up citizens.”

“Arthur?” Yaz mouthed behind Nardole’s back.

“My dad. Bit of a character, you’ll see.”

Inside, the foyer was bisected by a grand stairwell which tapered off into two near the top. Through the tall windows positioned deliberately around the room, harsh slabs of sunlight cut through the air, struck the marble tile, and splintered into myriad shards which refracted straight into their eyes. Nothing dark or dusty about this castle. After setting their bags down, they followed Nardole through a passageway to the right. 

The manor was much more homely than the exterior might lead one to believe. It would have been easy for such a huge space to feel empty and cold, but JJ’s parents had done a good job of filling almost every inch of the place with bookshelves full of rare editions, cabinets littered with a strange mix of both memorabilia from their travels and ancient bones uncovered from archeological sites; framed pictures of family and friends, and lots of potted cacti (much easier to keep alive when they both became too engrossed in research and adventure to remember to tend to their plants).

Eventually, they emerged in the kitchen on the far side of the manor. Almost every surface was made from light, embellished wood; even the fridge looked, from an outsider’s perspective, to be just another tall, ornamental cabinet. Above, low hanging light fixtures hung from brass chains. They swayed in the cool breeze creeping in through the vented windows, beyond which the view from the back of the house was bared to all. 

Beyond the patio, a huge garden dense with shrubbery and overgrown flower beds was criss-crossed by a stepping stone walkway. A modest, frozen pond was just about visible in the distance, glimpsed between the branches of naked fruit trees and the snow white petals of Christmas roses. In the middle of it all, a birdcage-esque pavilion housed a couple of white benches and a small round table. Lantern lights JJ had put up for them one year were still affixed to the wrought metal bars. Usually, at this time of year, the garden would be cluttered with garish festive decorations and an atrocious amount of fairy lights, but JJ had asked if they could limit the display this year. Yaz insisted she didn’t mind, but the last thing JJ wanted was to offend her. 

And there, gazing out of the window with a glass of something chestnut-brown in her hand, was JJ’s mother. She turned upon their entry and her once golden mane, now a subtler shade and streaked with occasional strands of white, bounced with impossible volume around her shoulders. The smile lines around her eyes deepened and her painted lips drew into a wide, welcome-home of a smile. JJ’s heart grew five sizes whenever she saw it. 

“Hello, sweeties.”

“Mum!” Wasting no time, JJ crossed the kitchen with record speed and enveloped her in a tight, never-letting-go hug. Her familiar perfume, dark and rich with spices, filled her senses and flooded her with sweet nostalgia. 

Her mother’s laughter rang like a clear church bell on a quiet night and permeated JJ’s bones, all solace and harmony and peace. She wrapped her arms securely around JJ and ran her ringed fingers through her hair in that achingly maternal way of hers. JJ nuzzled against her like a young fawn and sighed happily against the collar of her blouse. 

“Hi, fox,” her mother purred. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, mum.”

“Hey, Ma,” waved Jack. 

“Jack. Too suave to give your mother a hug these days, are we?” she teased.

Sparing a sheepish glance towards Bill and Yaz, Jack allowed his mother to pull him into a one-armed hug while JJ still clung to her other side. Jack was the first to break away from the embrace, but he didn’t get away without first receiving a fond pinch of his cheek, which prompted a snigger from Bill. 

All at once, astute hazel-greens cut across the room towards Yaz and Bill. “And who do we have here?” 

“Mum, this is Bill and Yaz,” introduced JJ. She’d already told her parents they’d both be staying with them; they hadn’t even asked JJ to justify bringing an extra mouth to feed. That just wasn’t who they were. “Guys, this is our mum. Professor River Song.”

“Yasmin Khan, I take it?” said River, addressing Yaz with a smile. 

“Uh. Yeah. Yes. Hi, Professor Song. It’s — it’s really nice to meet you,” stammered Yaz. “JJ’s told me so much about you. And your house is — it’s really nice. I love the… cacti.”

JJ gawked at Yaz; she’d never before seen her so blatantly nervous. But River was nothing if not a kind and graceful host. Rather than acknowledge her stuttering, she surprised Yaz with a hug no less encompassing than those she had offered to her children. Yaz’s eyes widened and her hands hovered in the air for a few seconds. JJ watched her swallow her reservations and reciprocate River’s hug. 

“It’s lovely to meet you, Yaz,” said River. She drew back but let one of her hands rest on Yaz’s shoulder. Anyone could see Yaz wasn’t sure how to react to River’s unbidden physical affection. “I hear you’ve been making my daughter very happy.”

“Reckon if I ask nicely she’ll give me a hug that tight?” Bill murmured in JJ’s ear. 

“Please don’t make me regret inviting you, Bill,” whispered JJ. 

“Well, you never mentioned she was a MILF.”

“Right,” said River. Her hand slipped from Yaz’s shoulder. “I don’t suppose anybody fancies a drink? I was going to make eggnog, but I sort of just ended up drinking the brandy instead. Far less steps involved.”

“I see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Bill said to Jack.

“You should feel right at home then,” Jack riposted. 

“Think me and Yaz are gonna go wash and change first. Is dad around?” wondered JJ. 

River rolled her eyes, saturated with mirth though they were. “He’s making a godawful racket in his studio at the minute. You go off and get ready, fox. I’ll handle him.” River turned to the rest of them. “Everybody else, make yourself at home. Bill, Nardole will show you to your room. Wait. Where the _hell_ has he gone?”

“Think he’s sweeping our bags for spyware, Professor Fox,” replied Bill. She didn’t realise her slip of the tongue until three heads turned abruptly towards her. Jack was the only one who looked away; easier to hide his tittering. “Shit, I mean — Song. Professor Song.”

“I think River will do just fine, sweetie,” winked River. The moment her back was turned, Bill gave Jack a hard dig in the arm, which only made him laugh harder. “Anyway, dinner’s at seven. If anybody needs anything, I’m sure Nardole will be reluctant to help. Otherwise, I’ll see you all shortly.” With that, she raised her brandy and swept out of the room, giving JJ a doting squeeze of her shoulder as she passed her by. 

Yaz turned to JJ. “So… fox?”

JJ blushed. “Like I said, I _really_ used to want to be a Lost Boy.”

“Everybody stop right there!” shouted Nardole, appearing suddenly beside them as if a ghost materialising from nothing. They all jumped back in unison. “I’ve uncovered something very suspicious in one of your cases. I haven’t figured out its function yet, but it appears to emit some sort of an encrypted wavelength. Perhaps a kind of… code transmitter? Who does this device belong to?” Nardole held up his hand. Sitting atop his palm was a small, metal, bullet-shaped vibrator. 

While the others all choked back laughter, a weary faced Bill wordlessly swiped the bottle of brandy on the counter and headed for the door. “Just destroy it, mate.”

* * *

JJ’s bedroom was a bombardment of colour and character. Her parents had insisted she decorate it however she like, so that she’d be more inclined to feel it was her own space and as much a sanctuary to her as it was them. 

The walls were mustard yellow but the ceiling, JJ had asked her father to paint for her. Something to help her drift off at night and something she’d be happy to open her eyes to first thing in the morning. He’d painted Van Gogh’s _Starry Night;_ a beautiful, swirling tapestry whose edges crept onto the walls and whose looping brushstrokes JJ had spent many a sleepless hour gazing at. Waning daylight soaked in through the stained glass of her bay window and cast dappled sunlight across the startlingly white sheets of her king sized bed. 

The walls were plastered in photographs, postcards; letters; sketches, and the shelves on the wall were crammed with sentimental souvenirs from her youth and snow globes from her travels in adulthood. Somebody had left a cactus on her windowsill. 

Straight away, Yaz was drawn to the wooden desk beneath the window, and to the series of framed pictures on top. Most of them were of her and Jack as teenagers, and a few more of them throughout the years that followed. While Yaz studied a snapshot of them wrestling in the back garden of their old house, JJ shrugged off her coat and hung it up in the wardrobe. 

“God, you were so skinny when you were a kid,” mused Yaz. “I mean, I get why, but…”

Rolling up the yellow sleeves of her cable knit sweater, JJ plodded across soft carpet and came to a standstill at Yaz’s back. She peered over her shoulder. “Think that were taken the first week after I became an official member of the fam. Me and Jack were still figurin’ out how to live together without killin’ each other.”

Yaz set the picture down and picked up another. This one was taken years later. Jack and JJ stood on opposite sides of a beer pong table at a house party; JJ was wearing her Cambridge hoodie and Jack was necking something out of a red solo cup. She looked far healthier there. 

Yaz chuckled. “Bet you pulled all the girls at uni, didn’t you?”

“I had my moments,” bragged JJ, winding her arms around Yaz and resting her chin on her shoulder. “Actually, I spent most of my time studyin’ in the library.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Yaz returned the picture frame to the desk and twisted around in JJ’s arms, half-perched against the desk with her fingers bunched in JJ’s sweater. “I can see why you like it so much here.”

“Yeah? What did you think of mum?” asked JJ. “I shoulda probably warned you she’s a hugger. Is that okay? You looked a little bit shocked.”

“Just weren’t expecting it. We don’t — we’re not exactly like that in my family.”

“You don’t hug your mum?”

Yaz shrugged. “Not since I were a kid.”

JJ brushed a lock of Yaz’s hair, which had come loose from the messy bun atop her head, out of her face. “Well, there’s plenty of hugs to be had around here if you’re ever in need. Especially from me.”

“You do give a good hug,” chuckled Yaz. 

“I do, don’t I?” JJ gave Yaz a peck on the forehead, and then their half-embrace dissolved into a full one. When Yaz’s fingertips massaged the base of her skull, JJ’s eyelids fluttered closed with a long exhale against Yaz’s neck. No place like home, indeed. 

Their tender moment was cut abruptly off when, “Oh, my god,” said Yaz. “Is that what I think it is?”

Puzzled, JJ drew her head back and followed Yaz’s line of sight. Draped over the door of the wardrobe was a furry orange onesie, equipped with a white-tipped tail and two ears on the hood. Yaz pulled out of JJ’s arms with a disbelieving laugh and crossed the room, pulling the onesie down and holding it up in her hands. 

“Babe, you _have_ to put this on,” urged Yaz. “I’ll pay you to let me see you in this.”

“It doesn’t fit me anymore,” JJ admitted begrudgingly. “Had a growth spurt when I were eighteen and had to stop wearin’ it. Didn’t have it in me to throw it away though.”

“I reckon you could still squeeze into it.”

“You think?” JJ grinned. “Maybe I’ll put on a fashion show for you later. Do the old cat walk. Fox walk?”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Dropping the costume onto the bed, Yaz approached JJ and held out her hands for her. JJ took them. “Fitting that you’d choose the fox, of all things.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, you are pretty foxy, babe.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Mhm.” Yaz was still smiling when she leaned in to kiss JJ. Smooth lips melted together and JJ hummed when Yaz indulged her with a slip of her tongue. Yaz’s mouth still held the peppermint flavour of a candy cane she’d been making slow work of on the drive over; the visceral memory of Yaz making direct contact with JJ in the back seat while she slid the straight edge of the cane in and out of her mouth kicked JJ’s ardour into gear. 

In a dizzy heartbeat, the kiss deepened. 

Hands disentangled in favour of holding one another closer and roaming over soft cotton and softer hair. Lips sought out jaws, ear lobes; necks, and forbearance was dismissed by greed. Yaz’s fingers skirted beneath the hem of JJ’s jumper. She splayed them flat across her stomach, where her fingertips teased the hem of her sports bra. JJ tugged, with purpose, on the bottom of Yaz’s jacket. 

“Have we got time?” asked Yaz.

“Loads.”

JJ rushed to help Yaz out of her jacket. It ended up flying across the room, soon followed by Yaz’s shirt and JJ’s belt. JJ backed Yaz up against the wardrobe and mouthed at a breast over her bra and then Yaz pushed JJ up against the wall and went in on her throat. Eventually, after lots of blind stumbling and groping and fervent kissing, they made it — almost by accident — to the bed. 

Straddling JJ, Yaz had her hands pinned to the sheets, a tongue in her mouth, and a knee pressed firm between her thighs. JJ whimpered when she leaned into her with greater pressure. 

“More, babe?” Yaz breathed. 

“Please.”

Yaz repositioned herself and swapped her knee out for her hand, which she used to cup JJ over her trousers. She forced the seam up against her and JJ’s breathing stalled, her open mouth catching a strand of Yaz’s hair. 

“More?”

“ _Y_ _az…_ ”

Smirking, Yaz at last tore JJ’s zipper down and buried her hand inside her boxers. She endowed JJ’s collarbone with hot kisses while her fingers trailed leisurely figure eights through the satiny moisture between her legs. JJ bent her knees and gripped Yaz by her ribs. Before she could think to beg for a little more, however, the door to her bedroom swung open without warning. 

A man with a thick head of grey hair and unruly caterpillar eyebrows poked his head around. “Fox, are you—“

“Dad!”

Cursing, Yaz whipped her hand out of JJ’s boxers and scrambled off her, helped by JJ frantically shoving her away and yanking a blanket over her body — but not before her dad got a full view of the entire, mortifying affair. He froze in the doorway; his wrinkled skin turned the same hue as the startled whites of his eyes. 

“Ah. Um. Jamie? I’m not sure if you’re aware, but there appears to be a half naked girl on your bed,” he observed in a dry, Scottish accent. 

Yaz groaned quietly, still clutching the blanket to her chest and half hiding her face behind JJ’s shoulder. 

“Dad, this is… this is Yaz. Yasmin Khan. My — my girlfriend,” acquainted JJ. Only just realising that her flyer was still open, she hastily zipped it back up and cleared her throat. 

“I should expect so, yes.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr…”

“Doctor,” he corrected. “Doctor will do just fine for now, I think.”

“Dad, we’ll be right down, okay? Can you just…”

“Right. Right! Sorry, yes. No. You know me — never one to linger.” He looked between the two of them warily. “I’ll see you shortly then?”

“Yep. Shortly. Super, duper shortly,” nodded JJ. “Just gotta…”

“Find your friend some clothes?”

“Right,” grimaced JJ. 

Following an awkward thumbs-up, he shuffled out of the room and closed the door behind him. The moment he left, Yaz collapsed onto the pillow and covered her face with her hands to muffle an exaggerated sob. 

“Well, that was Arthur,” muttered JJ. “And as first impressions go… you definitely made one.”

“Kill me,” whined Yaz. 

“Ah, don’t worry, Yaz. It’s — look, it’s actually kinda funny.”

Yaz spread her fingers and glared at JJ through the gaps in them. “Oh, hilarious. ‘Cause he were just rolling around on the floor. Christ, the look on his face.”

Affording Yaz a sympathetic smile, JJ delicately peeled her hands away from her face. “We’re adults, ladybird. It’s not like they think I’m a nun.”

“Doesn’t mean they wanna walk in on you with your girlfriend’s hand in your trousers! _Shit_. Is it okay if I just hide away in your room for the rest of the weekend? Seriously, just leave me in here with a bottle of something strong.”

“No chance.”

Yaz made a frustrated sound. “How am I supposed to look him in the eye after that and convince him I’m not some kind of money hungry sex freak?”

“With conviction!” proposed JJ with undamped optimism. She gently poked the tip of Yaz’s nose just to watch the way her face soured in dissent. “C’mon, it’ll all be forgotten in no time. Honest. He’s probably already repressed the whole thing. He has a habit of doin’ that.”

“Don’t care. Not leaving.”

“Yasmin…”

“Absolutely not.”

JJ rolled on top of Yaz and leaned into her ear. “Please, _baby_ ,” she crooned, pressing a light kiss to the shell of her ear. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Mate, if you think I’m shagging you in this house now you’ve got another thing coming.”

“But — but what about Christmas sex?”

“Have it with yourself.”

“That’s cruel. You really gonna be able to keep your hands off me when I’m lookin’ at you like this?” JJ pressed the tip of her nose to Yaz’s and smiled goofily at her until she started to laugh. 

“You’ve got me there, babe.”

“I’ve always got you, ladybird,” pledged JJ. “Now how about we burn some calories off in the shower before dinner? Water pressure’s great. Dead loud. And the door locks too, which is always a bonus.”

“JJ, your dad’s literally _just_ walked in on us. How are you still horny?”

“You’re still here, aren’t you?”

Unmoved, Yaz stared blankly back at JJ — who batted her eyelids comically and stuck out her bottom lip. 

“You’re not cute.”

“I am a bit.” JJ dropped her chin to Yaz’s chest and doubled down on the doe-eyes. “Just a tiny bit?”

“Oh, god. Fine,” yielded Yaz. “Go get the water running.”

JJ’s grin exerted every muscle in her face. She grabbed Yaz’s face and pressed a loud kiss to her lips. “Love you, Yaz.”

“Yeah, you better.”

* * *

It took a lot of persuading and puppy-eyed coaxing but, in time, JJ managed to convince Yaz to leave her room and head downstairs with her after their shower. They followed the staticky hum of a record player into the main living area, which was an open, candlelit room of dark red drapes, oak coffee tables, expensive Chesterfield sofas, and a two floor bookshelf (equipped with its own staircase and balcony) lining the imminent wall. Beside the lit fireplace on the far end of the room sat a piano, but the electric guitar leaning against it was likely to have received more attention in the past week than the old Bösendorfer did in a year. 

The record player was on a stand beside one of the sofas in the centre of the room, upon which sat Arthur and River. A marble chess board sat upon the coffee table in front of them — mid-game and gathering dust, for the time being. Arthur only ever complained that none of his opponents were worthy enough. He usually resigned to playing himself. 

“Hiya, guys,” JJ greeted as she and Yaz made their way towards them. 

At the sound of JJ’s voice, Arthur sprang to his feet and turned away, shielding his eyes with the newspaper he’d been flicking through. “Where’s the naked girl? Is she still naked?”

“Oh, sweetie, stop being rude,” chastised River. “Say hello to our guest. Properly.”

Reluctantly, Arthur dared a peek over his shoulder. Finding Yaz to be fully clothed, he loosened his shoulders and spun around with a sweep of his overcoat, dropping his newspaper onto the table. “Well, isn’t that better, eh? Hello guest. I appreciate your decision to wear a shirt for dinner. Only, it can get a little cool this time of year. Wouldn’t want you catching a cold, would we?”

Rising to her feet, River gave Arthur a sure slap on the back of his head. 

“Ow!” Arthur rubbed his head and shot his wife an affronted look. “What the bloody hell was that for?”

“You know very well what.”

“I’m really, really sorry about before,” apologised Yaz. “I just — we were just—“

“Having sex?” finished River. Unfazed, she sipped her drink. 

Yaz stopped dead and JJ groaned. 

“Mum.”

“Well, there’s no need to feel embarrassed. It’s perfectly natural and perfectly healthy. We all do it.” River glanced at Arthur. “I know you definitely have no room to judge, sweetie. Not after last night.”

“Oh, Christ. Can we please change the subject?” entreated JJ, beginning to regret her decision not to hide away with Yaz in her bedroom all night. 

“Well, I’d ask who’s hungry, but I think we may have all just lost our appetite,” grumbled Arthur.

“I bloody hope not!” Nardole shouted; a disembodied voice carrying through the corridors. That is, until he appeared in the arched doorway a moment later sporting a ‘kiss the chef’ apron and a toque atop his head. His flour-dusted cheeks turned even rounder when he offered a cheery smile. “I made Jamie’s favourite!”

“Ooh, mac and cheese?” 

“Um. Okay, I made your second favourite.”

“No way. Are we havin’ cake for dinner?”

Nardole’s face fell. “Right. Why don’t you just tell me which number on the list my signature chorizo pasta bake is?”

“A very close third, Nardole,” beamed JJ. Nardole’s scrutinising expression disintegrated when JJ plucked off his hat and smacked a kiss to the top of his head. “And a kiss for the esteemed chef.”

“Oh!” Nardole giggled like a schoolgirl. It was the first time he’d had any colour in his complexion all day. 

“Fox, my dear, I’m beginning to think maybe I should’ve bought you a dictionary for Christmas,” Arthur cut in. “Esteemed is certainly not the word I’d use. Egregious, perhaps.”

“And you’ll be wanting to starve then, will you, Arthur?” challenged Nardole, folding his arms like a bothered wife. 

“Oh, pay him no mind, Nardole. He’s just sulking because I took his toys off him,” teased River. “I told you, my love, you can carry on banging your pots and pans when we’ve all eaten.”

“Banging my — I was in the middle of writing the next great masterpiece of our time!”

“Aren’t you always?”

“Can’t wait to hear it, dad,” offered JJ, forever the mediator. “And Nardole, I’m absolutely starvin’, mate. Haven’t eaten all day just to save room for your pasta.”

“Thank you, Jamie. At least _somebody_ in this house appreciates me,” he grouched, scowling at Arthur. “It’ll be ready in five minutes, at any rate. I’ll go and round up the stragglers, shall I?”

Whilst Nardole scuttled off to get Bill and Jack, the others made their way over to the dining room. They all took their seats at a long, oval table draped in white cloth, upon which were multiple lit candelabras, places set for six, an open bottle of wine, and two bread baskets. The napkins had been folded into origami swans atop each plate — something Nardole had first learned to do to cheer up a young, reserved JJ whenever he visited. 

The walls in the dining room were dark wood and had a multitude of nooks inset into them, each acting as a display shelf to another odd artefact: a small stone figure of Aphrodite, a polished skull which had gems embedded into its eye sockets, a papyrus scroll scribed with ancient text. The sun had since set, so the only light to come in through the pointed windows along the back wall was that of the moon. It was a super moon; the ring of light around it scorched a hole through passing clouds. 

In the corner of the room was a Christmas tree, adorned with tinsel, string lights, baubles, and a luminescent star at its peak. Aside from another Christmas tree JJ had spotted in one of the smaller living areas — where they typically opened their presents and spent their time together on Christmas day — it was the most festive decor she’d seen all day. She made a mental note to thank her parents for obliging her. 

Bill and Jack arrived a short time later, walking in through the archway sniggering amongst themselves about god only knew what. On her way past Arthur, who still had his nose in a newspaper, Bill came to a stop behind his chair, leaned over his shoulder, and said, “Gegenschein.”

Arthur jumped out of his skin with a startled yell. Clutching his heart and frowning incredulously, he twisted his neck around to get a look at Bill. “What?” he demanded. 

“For the crossword. Nine across. Eleven letters. The sun’s counter-glow,” Bill elucidated like it was obvious. “Gegenschein.”

“Two questions. Who the hell are you, and why are you standing in my dining room?”

“Oh, nice to meet you too, gramps,” mumbled Bill, making her way over to the empty seat beside Yaz. 

“ _Gramps_?”

JJ stifled a laugh. “Dad, this is Bill. A friend of Yaz’s.”

“And a royal pain in the arse,” added Jack. 

Arthur frowned. “Yaz?”

“Naked girl,” explained River. 

Jack’s ears might well have pricked up like a hound’s. “What now?”

“Nothing,” Yaz and JJ said in unison. 

Arthur studied his crossword with narrow eyes and cast a wary look Bill’s way. “Well, Yaz’s friend, you appear to be correct.”

“Bill, since when did your vocabulary consist of anything but two syllable words?” asked Yaz. 

Pouring herself a healthy glass of wine, Bill gave a disinterested shrug just as Nardole appeared with a huge, steaming dish of pasta. “What can I say? I’m a woman of mystery.”

Folding up his newspaper, Arthur peered down his nose at his plate whilst Nardole ladelled a healthy portion of pasta onto it, brandishing a pair of scissors to snip at the stringy mozzarella. “Ah, chorizo pasta bake. What a rare surprise. How many nights this week is that now? Seven?”

“You do realise I’m not actually your personal chef, right? Or your housekeeper. Or your gardener. Or your… toilet cleaner,” Nardole argued. He dropped the ladle unceremoniously into the dish and everyone flinched away from the resulting splatter of tomato sauce that flew out in all directions. “For the record, you really might _want_ to get a professional for that bathroom of yours — God help them. It is _not_ my job!”

“What exactly is your job?” Jack piped up. 

“Nobody knows,” said Arthur. “He’s just kind of… here. River won him in a raffle, I think.”

With an indignant scoff, Nardole threw down the dish cloth draped over his shoulder and marched out of the room. River sent Arthur a look, like she wanted to be annoyed but wasn’t really, and he grinned roguishly back at her. 

“Well, don’t stand on ceremony anybody,” said River, picking up her knife and fork. “Get stuck in.”

Bill looked up with a gob full of food and pasta sauce around her mouth. “There’s a ceremony to stand on?”

“Not in this house,” muttered Arthur. Then, without remark or theatrics, he pulled a Rubik’s cube out from his jacket pocket and set it down on the table in front of Bill. Bill regarded it with a confused frown, but Arthur simply tucked into his pasta without another word. 

Everybody soon got chatting and catching up with one another about all of their recent respective adventures, but JJ was fast to notice that Yaz hadn’t had so much as a nibble of her food; she just kept pushing it around her plate with her fork. 

JJ leaned in. Hiding her lips behind her wine glass, she whispered, “What’s wrong? Don’t you like the food?”

Yaz’s eyes darted between the others at the table surreptitiously. “I don’t eat pork, babe. Remember?” she said, dabbing the corner of her mouth with her napkin to hide their covert exchange. 

It took everything JJ had not to smack herself for her unforgivable oversight. In fact, the muscles in her hand twitched with the intent to do just so. Perhaps anticipating her next move, Yaz squeezed her hand under the table and shook her head furtively. 

“Please don’t say anything. It’s fine, I’m not that hungry,” claimed Yaz.

JJ didn’t see how that could be the case when neither of them had eaten since breakfast. Candy canes not included. 

“Everything all right, you two?” River asked from across the table. 

“Um, actually, I kinda forgot to mention. I don’t eat red meat anymore,” fibbed JJ. “Doctor’s orders. High cholesterol, apparently. Didn’t even occur to me ‘til right now. Sorry.”

“Uh, since when?” frowned Jack. “Just last week I saw you scarf down—“

JJ kicked his shin viciously under the table. He choked on a chunk of chorizo and then, not understanding, kicked JJ right back. Forgetting subtlety, JJ grabbed a piece of bread from the basket and lunged it at him. Jack ducked. The bread missed him and landed in one of the nooks in the wall and he gaped at it as if it were a bullet he’d narrowly dodged and not a slice of baguette. With vengeance in his eyes, he reached for the bread basket.

“If you even think about touching that piece of bread, Jack Rory Harkness, you’ll be sent to your room without so much as a sip of scotch before bed,” scolded River, and the stern fibre of her voice made Jack draw his hand away rapidly. 

“Wh — but she started it!” he objected. 

“And I’m finishing it.”

“Unbelievable! Dad?”

Arthur wasn’t even paying attention. His focus had been ensnared by Bill, who had since picked up the Rubik’s cube he’d left out and was fiddling with it without watching what her hands were doing. “Best to do as she says, son,” he said, distracted. He checked a stopwatch none had seen him withdraw and returned his gaze to Bill. “Learned that one the hard way.”

Jack lowered at JJ. She aggravated him even further with a butter-wouldn’t-melt smile. 

Once satisfied that Jack had been properly put in his place, River turned once more to JJ and Yaz. She looked between them both, and then down at Yaz’s untouched food. “You know what? I’m a little sick of pasta anyway. How about we order something?” she suggested with a wink that none other than Yaz and JJ caught. 

“Nardole’s gonna lose his mind,” reckoned Jack, though he didn’t sound particularly bothered. 

“All the more reason.” Arthur stopped his stopwatch and squinted at it. “Two minutes flat without so much as a glance! How on Earth did you do that?”

All at once, everyone turned towards Bill. She’d solved the Rubik’s cube. However, when she looked down at her hands, she looked just as surprised as everybody else at her apparent dexterity. “Uh. Beginner’s luck?” Unaware of everybody’s collective bemusement, she set the cube down and went in for her fifth piece of bread. “So we feeling pizza or Chinese?”

* * *

“I’ll scrape, you load,” said JJ, setting a stack of dirty plates down on the kitchen counter and standing on the foot pedal that opened the bin. She’d volunteered herself for dish duty while the others ordered takeaway, and Yaz got up to help without being asked. Their reward was that they didn’t have to be the ones to break the news to Nardole. An earache, JJ could do without. 

“You didn’t have to lie for me in there, babe,” said Yaz, accepting a scraped-clean plate from JJ and loading it into the dishwasher. “I don’t want you to have to lie to your parents; I know how much you hate being dishonest.”

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s just a little white lie,” dismissed JJ. “I’ll remember about the pork next time. That’s my bad. Sorry, Yasmin.”

“Think your mum clocked anyway,” Yaz sighed. “She doesn’t miss a trick, does she?”

“Not for as long as I’ve known her.”

“Why does it feel like everything’s going wrong? First your dad walks in on us, then I upend everyone’s meal... I think your dad actually likes Bill more than he likes me. And since when was Bill a bloody prodigy? Can’t believe I’m getting stood up by _her_.”

“Hey, relax, ladybird,” cooed JJ. She set down the plate she was holding and put her hands on Yaz’s upper arms. “Look, it’s not a big deal. The pasta’s pretty inedible anyway, I think we were all lookin’ for an excuse. And dad’s just… he’s got a weird sense of humour. He’s not tryna be rude.”

“Naked girl?”

“Ah, I’ve heard worse. I think being a bit of a nob is his way of saying he likes you.” JJ gave Yaz’s arms a comforting rub. “Believe me, I know them. This is going well.”

“For now. What about when we have _the_ _conversation_?” Huffing out her cheeks, Yaz dropped her forehead to JJ’s shoulder and groaned while JJ stroked her hair. “I really want ‘em to like me. Didn’t think I were gonna be that bothered, but…”

“But?” 

“Well you’ve made no secret that you love your parents to death, babe. Their opinion matters, as it should. So if they tell you they don’t approve of me—“

“Yaz, I’m my own person. I’m an adult. The only person who gets to decide who I love is me.” JJ kissed the top of Yaz’s head. “I’m always gonna love you. No matter what. So can you do something for me?”

Yaz lifted her head. “What?”

“Trust me. Just be yourself, and trust me. We’ll explain everythin’ together. Me and you,” pledged JJ. “They’ll understand, yeah? I know they will. So all you gotta do is have a little faith in me. Can you do that?”

“Okay,” Yaz said after a beat. “I trust you.”

“Excellent.” JJ smiled and bumped their foreheads together. “So, um. If I’ve just eaten pork does that mean I can’t kiss you?”

Yaz laughed. By way of answer, she curled her hand around the back of JJ’s neck and touched her lips tenderly to hers. They painted such a domestic scene, clinging to one another in the kitchen next to dirty plates and empty wine glasses, and JJ was briefly awarded a vision of what her life with Yaz would look like when they finally had a place of their own. She liked what she saw. 

JJ felt so entirely encompassed by love — in this place, with these people she called family, when Yaz’s kisses were forever just a breath away — that she perceived no credible way in which anything could go wrong. 

The only problem with a heart so full and so big, was that sometimes it became impossible to see past it to the bumpy road ahead. 

* * *

Given the less formal nature of their second meal that night, they decided to eat in the smallest, and cosiest, of the living rooms. It consisted of little more than a few sofas, a glass table now covered in half-empty pizza boxes, a shaded lamp in the corner, and an antique grandfather clock. A TV on the wall between two windows played an old Christmas movie, but the sound had been muted. 

Bill, who had somehow managed to become the latest subject of Arthur’s curiosity, was working out the answer to an equation he’d written on the back of the takeaway menu. 

“So, you’re Scottish,” she observed of Arthur whilst scribbling away at her homework. Unlike Yaz, she’d made herself right at home: sandwiched between Arthur and River on one sofa while Yaz, JJ, and Jack sat on the other. 

“Am I? Hadn’t noticed.” 

“And Jack’s American.”

“Oh, she‘s bright, this one,” quipped Arthur. But then Bill clicked her pen and handed the menu back, and Arthur examined her answer with blatant astonishment. “Oh. She actually is bright. Fox, where did you find this one again?”

“Right, so how come none of you in this whole family have the same accent?” Bill demanded to know. 

“Mum and dad travelled a lot. That’s how they met — they both just happened to be passing through the same small American town,” Jack answered. “They raised me in the states for a while because that’s where they had me, but then…”

“It all became terribly dull terribly fast. Besides, we wanted a better life for our son than a backwater town with fifty different words for ‘spit bucket’ could offer,” finished River. “Not to mention our little anarchist made an enemy of the sheriff by the ripe old age of fourteen.”

“And we couldn’t have been more proud,” beamed Arthur, high-fiving his wife behind Bill’s back. JJ’s parents had never much been fans of authority themselves. 

“Ah, he was just pissed ‘cause his son asked me to the school dance. Actually, I heard little Alonso ended up becoming a soldier a few years after that.”

“Poor boy,” Arthur and River sighed. 

“How come the two of you used to travel so much?” wondered Yaz. “Was it for work?”

“Yes. My job as an archaeologist used to take me all over the world,” explained River. “Still does. I get to travel a lot more now that these two have fled the nest. Not that we don’t miss you deeply, of course.”

Jack scoffed. 

“What about you, Doctor?” Yaz asked.

“Oh, you’re not seriously making the poor girl call you ‘Doctor’, are you?” challenged River. 

Arthur raised his hands defensively. “I just thought it’d be wise to encourage a little formality, what with the… informal nature of our first encounter.” Under River’s molten stare — and after a brief glance at JJ’s pleading face — his stubbornness melted like wax. “Oh, all right. Yaz, I implore you, call me Arthur. To answer your question, yes, I was travelling for work when River and I met.”

“You work?” queried Bill. 

“Yes, I work. What kind of question is that?”

“Just kind of had you pegged as that eccentric old guy who all the local kids think might be a wizard.”

“Well, a person can be two things.”

“Or more, if you’re dad,” said JJ. “Go on, dad, tell ‘em what you do.”

“Here we go,” muttered River. 

“Well, I do a bit of everything! Part time lecturer, part time astrophysicist, part time rock legend, inventor, philanthropist, explorer, philosopher…”

“And what do you do full time then?” ribbed Jack.

“I’m married to your mother, aren’t I?”

“Watch it,” warned River.

“Yes, dear.” Arthur wriggled his animated eyebrows at Yaz as if the two of them were in on a joke together, and Yaz was finally relaxing like JJ had been waiting for her to do all evening.

It overjoyed her to see them all getting on so well. If she lost everything tomorrow but this newfound harmony amongst her loved ones, JJ would still die a happy woman. But peace was so precarious. JJ has always been forced to learn that the hard way. 

“And you, Yaz? What is it that you do?” asked River, dangling a bomb over the room that Yaz and JJ had been waiting to drop since their arrival. 

Yaz sat up straighter. “Uh, I’ve recently taken up acting, actually. Theatre.”

“Ah, fantastic!” exclaimed Arthur. “Have you been in anything I might have heard of? We’re huge fans of the arts.”

“To be honest, I’ve just been in the one production so far. It were kinda low key,” Yaz admitted. 

“Shoulda seen her up there on that stage though! She were brilliant. Got ace reviews, didn’t you, ladybird? Never seen anythin’ like it,” JJ praised eagerly. “And she’s got a bunch more auditions lined up in the new year. Some of ‘em she didn’t even go out for.”

“Is that how the two of you met? Through the theatre?” inquired Arthur. 

And there was the bomb; the missile deployed. It sailed through the air towards them and threatened to level the rapport they’d been slowly building. But it would be fine, JJ told herself. She and Yaz had agreed to calmly tell their story. It was a good story. It was a love story, and her parents were bound to see it as such. They were, after all, romantics at heart. 

Except the question did something undeniable to the atmosphere in the room. Jack and Bill exchanged a look. In the pregnant silence, Jack cleared his throat and sipped his drink and JJ pressed her palms into her thighs to keep her legs from bouncing. 

Arthur frowned. “Oh, what was that?”

“What was what?” asked JJ.

“Something just changed in the room. A flux in vibrational frequencies. A hitch in the conversational flow. And your eyes, fox,” accused Arthur, leaning forwards and anatomising her with a startlingly intuitive stare. “Your eyes tell all. I just made it awkward. Why?”

“Sweetie, what have I told you about getting all intense?” 

“Ah, it’s the eyebrows. I can't help it.” He dismissed River with a wave of his hand. “So? Where did you meet?”

“We met at a club,” answered Yaz. 

“Oh.” Arthur sat back, evidently having been expecting more. Little did he know, there was far more to come. “Well, I suppose that’s where a lot of young folks these days—“

“A strip club.”

The grandfather clock tallied up each passing second in which nobody said a word. _Tick._ JJ took Yaz’s hand. _Tock._ Bill tried to make herself invisible by melting into the sofa. _Tick._ River set her glass down on the table. _Tock._

“I used to work there,” Yaz went on. “Jack and JJ came in one night and I danced for her.”

As if waiting for them to reveal that it was all one big prank, Arthur looked expectantly at JJ. Even River, usually never seen without an easy smile on her face, looked suddenly concerned. _Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock._

“It isn’t how it sounds,” JJ jumped in. “It’s actually a really long st—“

“Are you still… a dancer?” interrupted Arthur. He spoke with a rigid jaw, indicating the effort he was exuding on remaining calm and withholding judgement. 

“I quit,” said Yaz. 

“Do you have another job?”

“I told you.”

“Right. Yes, you’ve been in a _single_ play. So how do you support yourself?”

Yaz gritted her teeth. “I had some money saved up.”

“Can’t imagine it was very much.”

“Dad,” hissed JJ. 

“I don’t depend on your daughter,” asserted Yaz; JJ could feel the steadily rising heat of her temper from beside her. The missile whistled closer. Impact was imminent, but there was no shelter to seek. 

“Oh, is that a fact?” doubter Arthur. 

“We don’t know the full story,” reasoned River. 

“Well, we know they’ve been travelling together all year. Who paid for all of that?”

“I insisted,” explained JJ.

“Of course you did, fox. And she refused, did she?”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not in the room,” seethed Yaz. “I’m sat right in front of you. If there’s something you want to accuse me of—“

“Yasmin, please.” JJ squeezed her fingers but Yaz just pulled her hand away. 

“I want to hear him say it.”

JJ’s breathing started to shallow out and she clenched her trembling fists on top of her knees, urgently scouring her mind for something to say that might deescalate the situation before it got out of hand. She came up short. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. They had a plan. Why wasn’t Yaz following the plan? 

“You think I’m a gold digger,” Yaz surmised bitterly. 

“Well.” Arthur shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”

Yaz got abruptly to her feet. “I’ll show you where my shoe fits, mate.”

“Woah, all right,” Jack intervened. He got up and bared his palms to Yaz and Arthur, who were both standing on opposite sides of the table and glaring at one another. “Why don’t we all take a breather, okay? Dad, come on. It’s really not like that.”

“And how can any of us know that? Forgive me, I thought we were in the presence of a venerated thespian.” He spread his arms theatrically. “Maybe — well, maybe it’s all an act! The performance of a lifetime. I bet the royalties are incredible, eh? Far better compensation than any lousy Broadway production. Oh, yes!”

“Arthur,” snapped River. “Stop raising your voice. You know we don’t do that in this family.”

“She raised hers first!”

“How old are you?”

While everybody else was so busy arguing, none of them even noticed the moment the bomb went off. None other than JJ. Her ears were ringing with the explosion, her heart slammed with violent aftershocks; the dust settled in her lungs and made breathing a painful labour. Only angry, indistinct voices and the dreadful notion that this was all her fault reached her through the falling ash of her disintegrating lucidity. 

She travelled back in time and occupied a younger, frailer body which knew only fear and fault and other people’s rage. Her terrified eyes bounced around the room to search for a friendly face, but she saw only the demons of her past. How long until they turned on her? Phantom wounds throbbed and her body went rigid in anticipation of a punishment she probably deserved. 

The clock counted down to it. It was the loudest thing in the room; it was inside JJ’s head. 

_Oh, you’re in trouble now, kid._

“...because that’s our daughter, River!” Arthur was shouting from somewhere amidst the carnage. “We’ve had to fight tooth and nail to protect her and I’ll be damned if I stop now.”

“For sanity’s sake, I’m not asking you to stop protecting her. I’m asking you to calm down, or else you’ll only upset… Jamie?”

JJ’s hands were fisted in her hair. Her head was ducked, her eyes were clamped shut, and her inability to keep from hyperventilating was making her dizzy and nauseous. She thought she might pass out. That only made her more anxious; made her pull harder on her own hair to force herself to stay conscious. 

All of a sudden there were hands on her knees and Yaz’s voice was in her ear. “JJ? Can you hear me, babe?” She cradled JJ’s cheek and sought out her eyes beneath the curtain of her hair. “Remember your streets, yeah? Run through them with me. Leicester Street, Oakland Avenue, Churchill Road…”

“Can’t,” choked JJ. 

“You can, we’ll do it together. C’mon, babe. Please. What’s the first one?” She prised JJ’s fingers from her hair while she spoke. “Leicester Street, remember? What’s next?”

“L — Leicester Street,” trembled JJ. “Oakland Avenue. Church… Churchill Road. Lyon Close…”

Yaz listed off the streets alongside JJ and gently encouraged her at every step; she’d memorised them a while ago specifically for this reason. JJ let the rest of the world fade away and honed in on Yaz’s patient voice and the thumb grazing her cheekbone, holding onto her presence with both hands like she was a rope cast into the deep, dark well JJ had fallen into. 

She cycled through her streets half a dozen times before the prison of her past opened its doors and let her crawl back into the present. JJ looked down at her body and it wasn’t so small, it wasn’t so weak anymore. But the fear didn’t pass in full until Yaz smiled reassuringly at her. _Oh_. Yaz was calm again. Safe again. And when JJ looked past her shoulder, River was clinging to Arthur’s arm and they both were anxiously watching the scene unfold with tears in their eyes. Jack was beside her too. And Bill. 

All she noticed when she looked at each of their faces in turn was how much they cared. That, and how obviously stunned River and Arthur were at the speed and efficiently with which Yaz had jumped into action to help her. 

Yaz kissed JJ’s forehead and JJ closed her eyes to it. She murmured assurances against her skin, but it was all too little too late. 

“Fox,” River began softly. “Are you all right? Do you need—“

“I’m fine.” JJ gathered her strength back up and rose shakily to her feet. She took Yaz’s hand and faced her parents. Her voice came out strained and uneven when she spoke. “Me and Yaz are gonna turn in for the night. In the morning, you’re either gonna show her the respect she deserves or we’re gonna leave. I love her. I trust her. That should be enough for you, and I really, really hope it is. But at the end of the day, as much as I’d like it, I don’t _need_ your approval.”

“Jamie,” sighed Arthur. “You have to understand—“

“I do understand. You worry about me, and I know I’ve given you reason to in the past, but there isn’t a single cell in my entire body that doubts Yaz’s intentions. If there was, I wouldn’t have brought her here to meet you. So thanks for dinner. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, JJ led Yaz out of the room by her hand. Their speechless audience watched them until they disappeared through the door. When JJ heaved it open, Nardole, who had obviously been eavesdropping on the other side, stumbled backwards with a startled yelp. He was holding a cake in his hands. 

“Oh! Uh. Hello. Fancy some cake?” He lifted it into the air and put on an innocent face. “It’s chocolate! We also have some ice cream in the—“

“Not now, Nardole,” said JJ. 

They brushed past him and JJ dropped Yaz’s hand, not caring that her long strides were putting her ahead. 

“Babe?” said Yaz. 

JJ said nothing.

“JJ, don’t you want some water or something? We can go out into the garden and get some air?”

“I’ll just open a window,” came JJ’s terse reply. 

After that, they made her way up to her bedroom in silence. They washed their faces and brushed their teeth in silence. They dressed down in silence. JJ still hadn’t spoken another word by the time Yaz emerged from the en-suite to find her angrily over-fluffing her pillow. 

Yaz came up behind her and put her hand on her shoulder. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“Never better.”

“Well… I just wanted to thank you. Y’know, for having my back in there.”

“Don’t thank me for that, Yaz,” said JJ without turning around. “Seriously. I took no pleasure in it.”

“Jamie—“

“Let’s just go to sleep.” JJ peeled back the corner of the duvet but Yaz stepped in front of her before she could climb inside. “Yasmin, please get out of my way.”

“Babe, come on. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I just… your dad, he…”

“He was looking out for me. If you’d understood that instead of escalating the whole situation—“

“How did _I_ escalate it?”

“‘I’ll show you where my shoe fits’? That’s my dad, Yaz! Can you imagine how it’d make you feel if I turned up at your parents’ house and said that to them? You’d be furious. I know you would.”

JJ’s point evidently hit the nail on the head. Yaz dropped her eyes and twisted the hem of her tee between her fingers. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t understand. I were so excited about this weekend. I couldn't wait for them to meet you, Yasmin. I couldn't wait for them to love you as much as I do. I saw how much you’d grown and I really believed you were mature enough for this now, but you let me down.”

“It’s not my fault they don’t trust me,” argued Yaz.

“Christ, Yaz. It’s normal for someone’s parents to have reservations the first time they meet someone new. And given how we met, you can’t blame them. That doesn’t mean you have any right to threaten someone in their own home.” JJ looked Yaz up and down. It was hard to remember a time she’d been so disappointed. “I thought that might be somethin’ even you understood.”

Yaz rocked back. “Even me?”

JJ shrugged. “Well, you said yourself, you’ve never exactly been a meet-the-parents type. Maybe you were right. Maybe this was too soon.”

“But he—“

“Oh, stop making excuses!” cried JJ. “Just stop blamin’ other people. You know I would’ve had your back in there if you’d given me the chance. Doesn’t matter how we met, Yaz, I’d defend you to the end of the bloody universe. I thought I’d proved that already. And if you’d let them see the Yaz I know, if you’d let me help you with this like I promised I would instead of flyin’ off the handle, it wouldn’t have mattered to them either. D’you think I’d drag you out here if I thought otherwise? No. All you had to do in there was trust me. That’s all I asked you to do, and it was too much for you.” 

“That’s not true, I just weren’t thinking. I’m so used to having to defend myself against people judging me that I just sort of… pounced.”

“And what d’you reckon they think of you now? We’ve been here one day and you’ve already rowed with my dad and upset my mum, I’ve had a full on breakdown, and now everybody’s probably down there worried sick. How would you judge yourself in that situation?”

Usually, when Yaz looked so hurt, JJ would be the first to offer her comfort. This time, she withheld it — even though she hated herself for it. 

“I’ll talk to them,” croaked Yaz. “I’ll apologise.”

“I think you’ve done enough for one night, don’t you?” This time, when JJ moved around Yaz to get into bed, Yaz didn’t stop her. JJ switched off the lamp, lay on her side, and closed her eyes. Not wanting a spiteful sentiment to be the last thing she said, she then mumbled a half-hearted, “Night, Yasmin.”

“Are you even gonna be able to sleep?”

The truth was, they both knew that while she was at odds with both Yaz and her parents, whatever sleep JJ managed to procure would be troubled and fitful. There was only one thing that ever helped with that. 

Yaz knew exactly what it was. Translating JJ’s silence, she asked, “Would it help if I spooned you?”

“I’m really mad at you right now,” grumbled JJ. 

“I know,” said Yaz. JJ felt the mattress dip when she climbed in on the other side of the bed. “You can still be mad at me and let me hold you. At least until you fall asleep. You don’t wanna be tired on Christmas day, do you?”

She raised an irritatingly valid point. 

“Fine,” huffed JJ. 

Sheets rustled and bodies shifted and, next thing, Yaz was pressed against JJ’s back with an arm around her waist. JJ couldn’t deny that Yaz’s solid, physical presence mollified her bubbling disquiet some. 

“I’ll be right here if you need anything, babe,” whispered Yaz. “I love you.”

JJ ground her jaw. Enraged though she may have been, she was never not going to say it back. The day Yaz’s love for her was met with silence was the day JJ no longer walked the Earth. At any rate, the only reason JJ was so furious was because she cared so deeply. 

“I love you too,” she said.

“Even right now?”

“Even right now.”

Yaz exhaled against JJ’s neck and her muscles loosened with all her relief. “Goodnight, fox.”

“Sweet dreams, ladybird.”


	14. safe with me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: references of past abuse, PTSD (dw it's quite a soft chap)
> 
> also once again i've had to split it into two parts lmao i actually think this is the shortest chapter so far ?? idk but i wanted to just get something posted. anyway stay safe everyone n enjoy !!

In sleep, JJ rolled away from Yaz. 

It took a long time for unconsciousness to claim her in the wake of their fight, and even longer for Yaz — who kept replaying the scene of her row with Arthur over and over in her head. She wished she’d handled things differently; wished she knew how to say the right things and be the type of person JJ would be proud for her parents to meet. Instead, as always, Yaz made a mess of everything. She let everyone down. 

She couldn’t stop thinking about JJ’s reaction, the way she folded in on herself and gasped for breath and pulled on her own hair like a frightened child. Yaz had done that to her. The thought made her sick. 

The sky was still black and the house deathly quiet when Yaz awoke from a brief and agitated slumber in the early hours of the morning. Her mouth was dry and her stomach was queasy with regret, so she peeled out of bed, pulled on some sweats and shoes, and crept out of the bedroom in search of the kitchen. 

Darillium Manor was hard enough to navigate in daylight. Alone and in the dark, it became all but impossible to wind through the labyrinthine corridors without getting lost. Instead of the kitchen, Yaz found herself stumbling across the tall glass doors which opened up onto the patio at the back of the house. She might have carried on past them had one of them not been left ajar. Curiosity piqued, she slipped through the opening into a cutting chill. Her breath misted in front of her whilst she pulled the sleeves of her sweater down and swept her eyes across the garden. 

There, sitting in the lantern light of the pavilion in the middle of the garden, was Arthur. He had his feet propped up on the table and a lit joint in his hand.

Yaz didn’t quite fancy a second round — least of all when the sun hadn’t even risen. As yet unseen, she turned to go, but the toe of her shoe got caught on an uneven slab of concrete and she stumbled on the way. She didn’t fall, but her gracelessness wasn’t without ruckus. Arthur turned her way and lifted the sunglasses on his face with a frown. 

“Oh. Sorry, I — I didn’t mean to intrude,” apologised Yaz, backing towards the house. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Yaz.” Arthur got to his feet. “Hang about. Um. Would you care to…” He lifted the joint in his hand by way of invitation. 

Yaz hesitated. Sparing a brief glance over her shoulder, she made her way down the steps and across the garden path towards the pavilion. Arthur and Yaz exchanged a polite smile when Yaz accepted the joint, and each of them settled on opposing benches. 

“Just don’t tell River,” beseeched Arthur. “She’ll only be cross with me for getting into her stash again.”

“I won’t tell River if you don’t tell JJ,” Yaz said through a plume of smoke. 

“Deal.”

Yaz had another drag and handed the joint back. They smoked in tense silence for a moment, and Yaz’s hankering for a glass of water only exacerbated with every inhale of dry smoke. When the quiet stretched on and on and even the rustling of trees and stems seemed to grind to a halt, Yaz forced herself to find her voice.

“I wanted to apologise about last night,” she started, twiddling her thumbs. “It’s not — that’s not me. I mean, it is me. Used to be. I dunno. People have always had somethin’ to say about how I made my money and they tend to think it’s somehow a reflection of me. Of who I am. But it isn’t.”

Arthur blew out a ring of smoke and watched it rise through the bars of the pavilion. “I suppose I ought to offer my own apologies. You’re a guest in my home. It wasn’t fair of me to treat you like that.”

“I get it though. I mean, it’s JJ.” Yaz’s eyes glazed over and she twisted the drawstring of her joggers between her fingers. “You’d do anythin’ to protect her.”

“I would.” Arthur offered the blunt and Yaz shook her head, so he tanned the rest of it in a few quick puffs and flicked the roach into a mug of cold tea on the table. “River and I were impressed with how you handled her episode earlier. I’ve never seen anybody but family get her out of her head like that.”

Yaz shrugged modestly. “It’s happened a few times before. I wanted to make sure I were prepared when it happened again.”

“It’s been going on since she was a child,” disclosed Arthur. He studied Yaz and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “What has she told you about her childhood?”

“Bits and pieces. It’s not somethin’ she likes to relive, but I can gather a lot of what went down.”

“Which is?”

“She was hurt, neglected...” Yaz lowered her head. “Abused.”

Pensive, Arthur leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees and wrung his creased hands together. He dropped his chin to his chest and took a deep breath. “Do you mind, Yaz, if we speak candidly for a moment?”

“Go ahead.”

“The thing is, I don’t like to talk about my… my _feelings_.” Arthur shivered. “I’m not a sentimental person by nature, it’s just not how I was made. But — and I don’t know whether it’s old age or parenthood — I think my heart’s bigger. Bigger than it ever was when I was a young man. I’m of the opinion that something changes inside a person when they have a child. 

When Jack came along, I swore up and down I could actually feel the change. Like it was a physical thing. Like something deep inside me just crumbled the moment I looked into his wide eyes and he wrapped a chubby hand around my finger. Handsome even as a baby, I’ll tell you. And he knew it too. 

Helping to create him was the only thing I’d done to date that mattered. I mean, what a miracle he was. An annoying little shit, but a miracle nonetheless. 

And we never planned on having a second child, you know? Well, don’t tell Jack, but we didn’t plan for him either. But I still vividly remember the day he came home with his new friend from school. I still remember the shock of her; this skinny, scrappy, nervous little thing. Dirt all over her clothes, hair looked like it hadn’t seen a brush in weeks, scabs on her knuckles—all that. 

We invited her to stay for dinner and I noticed she didn’t finish her food. No, it was the damnedest thing. Whenever she thought we weren’t looking, she’d stuff whatever she could—potatoes, carrots, bread crusts—into a napkin and hide them in her pockets. At first, I thought she just didn’t like River’s food and was trying to be polite. I mean, who could blame her? But then, later on, River and I were washing up in the kitchen and I mentioned it to her. Made some joke about her roast not being up to scratch, you know? 

And River looked at me—I’ll never forget—she looked at me and there were tears in her eyes. I said ‘calm down, woman. I think you’re a marvellous chef’! A complete lie, of course. Except then she explained to me what I’d seen. 

JJ wasn’t pocketing the food to throw it away. No, she was pocketing the food so that she could take it home. Had no idea when her next meal would be, you see. Had no idea when she’d next be able to eat again, because whoever was looking after her… well. They weren’t. They weren’t looking after her at all. 

When she told me, I felt—I can’t explain it, but all I felt was rage. Just blind rage. This poor girl was fading into nothing and nobody was doing a damn thing to help her.

Well, that was going to change. River and I called her into the kitchen before she left. We gave her a bag filled with leftovers and groceries and whatever else we thought she might need. Anything we had to give, we gave. Jamie took one look inside that bag and she started to cry. 

She didn’t understand. She just didn’t get why we were being kind to her. I suppose she was so used to cruelty that it just didn’t compute in her mind. Outright refused to take the groceries too. I think she assumed there was a catch; that we were playing games with her because we’d caught her taking extra food. So she emptied her pockets onto the floor, threw the bag back at us, and scarpered off into the night. 

River and I, we were up all night talking about it. We promised one another we’d find a way to help that girl. We made Jack promise not to give up on her at school either, not that it took much. Those two have always been inseparable even when they can’t stand each other. 

After that, it took time and patience and a lot of worrying—I worried so much for her those first few months that I gave myself an ulcer—but Jamie learned to trust us eventually. 

We fought for her, and we won, and we made it clear that the only rule in our house was kindness. Kindness above all else. And the thing is, that always came naturally to her. She always has been, at her core, selfless. Generous. Loyal. As it turned out, it was us who had a thing or two to learn from her. 

Knowing JJ, and loving her, and bringing her up has taught me more invaluable lessons than I care to count. I didn’t create her. I didn’t even know her for the first fifteen years of her life, but she is mine. My family. My daughter. My second miracle. 

And even though I adore her heart, even though I admire the way she loves and trusts, it frightens me to death. 

I worry that she takes people’s small kindnesses and basic acts of human decency for more than they are. I worry she wraps them up in napkins and stuffs them in her pockets and takes them home with her, because she doesn’t know when someone will next choose to be good to her. Because she lives in fear that it could all be taken away in a heartbeat. 

That’s the thing about Jamie. She’s thankful even for scraps; dines out on them for weeks. But she deserves more. She always has deserved so much more.

So maybe you can understand where I’m coming from, Yaz, when I’m not quite so keen as Jamie is to trust the people in her life. Maybe you can understand why I’m wary of her heart getting broken. It isn’t just the archaic principle of an old man thinking nobody’s good enough for his little girl. It’s her smile I’m concerned for. It took a very long time for her to find it, and the last thing on Earth I want is for her to lose it again. It’s rather a lovely smile, don’t you think?”

Watery eyed, Yaz cleared her throat and wiped the corner of her eye with her sleeve. “Trust me, all I want is to guard that smile, Arthur. I’d guard it with my life. JJ and I had an unconventional start, I’ll admit. In fact, I called things off at first because… because I just felt too much for her and it scared me. She just seemed too good to be true.”

“And now?”

“She is true. I know that. Everything good and kind and decent about her, it’s all real. And it’s incredible. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love your daughter. And I do. I love her so much. I dunno if I’m worthy of her love—I’m not sure anyone is—but all I can do is sit here and promise that I’ll _try_ to be worth her. Every day, I’ll try.”

Arthur scanned her face intently and then gave a slight nod, harsh features softening. “It really doesn’t matter to me what you do or don’t have. I don’t care where you came from, or what you do for a living. I only care that my daughter is safe with you. Please look me in the eye and tell me she is.”

“Jamie will always be safe with me,” guaranteed Yaz with absolute conviction. “You have my word.”

“I hope your word means something.”

“It’s all I have to give.”

“Very well,” accepted Arthur. He tilted his head towards the sky, and Yaz noticed for the first time that a grey dawn was fast approaching. “Perhaps we ought to get inside before we catch our deaths, eh?”

Arthur picked up his mug and they made their way back to the house in a more affable silence than before. 

“Jamie must really like you, you know?” he mused as they reached the patio doors. “I got the shock of my life when she asked us to keep the Christmas decorations to a minimum. She loves Christmas, that one. Never in all my years of knowing her has she wanted to dial down the festivities.”

“Wait, she did what?” 

“You didn’t know?”

Yaz closed the patio door behind them and shook her head. “I didn’t ask her to do that. I wouldn’t have—it really doesn’t bother me.”

“Ah. Well, that’s Jamie for you,” remarked Arthur.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t realise.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. We only really put them up for her anyway. She gets ridiculously excited, like a… well, like a child on Christmas morning.”

“Really?” Yaz’s heart winced at the idea that JJ would so readily give up something she clearly adored all in the name of making sure she felt comfortable. JJ hadn’t let on just how much she enjoyed all the festivities that went along with Christmas but, in hindsight, Yaz probably should have guessed. “Where do you keep all the decorations?”

“They’ll be gathering dust in the attic. Why?”

“Would you mind showing me the way? It’s just… I already kinda ruined Christmas Eve. I reckon it’s the least I can do to make sure she has a proper Christmas.”

“I think you’ll find, Yaz, that we both are at fault for last night’s theatrics,” corrected Arthur. And then, for the first time, he smiled at Yaz with genuine warmth. It changed his whole face. “How about I stick a fresh pot of coffee on and we get to decking the halls, eh? With any luck, we might manage a few rooms between us before she wakes up.”

And so they did just that. 

While the rest of the house slept, Yaz and Arthur dosed up on caffeine and proceeded to lug an extraordinary amount of decorations from the attic. They started with the gardens, stringing garland lights around the trees and erecting cartoonish reindeer statues and colourful elf figurines across the lawn. 

Whilst Arthur blew up a twelve foot, inflatable snowman at the front of the house, Yaz set about garnishing the interior with fake mistletoe, glittering tinsel, an excess of fairy lights, wreaths, and a variety of other holiday-themed knick knacks unearthed from the attic. 

Among the decorations, Yaz happened upon an old box that looked to be filled with photo albums. Without devoting too much time to flicking through them, she brought the box down to the kitchen and left it on the side for later perusal. At this point, dawn had already broken and white light was flooding in through every tall window and glass door. Arthur emerged, huffing about the wrestling match he’d just had with the inflatable snowman, and they both took a break at the island over a second cup of coffee.

No sooner had they taken their first sip than JJ walked through the door. 

There was still a crease on her cheek from where she’d been sleeping and her eyes weren’t open all the way. Her hair was sticking out in various places, but Yaz resisted the urge to stride up to her and fix it. Fiddling with the hem of the tee she’d slept in, JJ cast her eyes about the room warily, glancing at each of the decorations in turn and then looking between Arthur and Yaz with a mystified expression on her face. 

“Merry Christmas, fox!” grinned Arthur. 

“Hi, babe,” Yaz greeted gingerly. “Merry Christmas.”

JJ regarded Yaz with a measure of reticence that made her nerves spike. “What’s goin’ on?” she asked. Her voice was gravelly with sleep. 

Arthur and Yaz swapped an apprehensive look. It was Arthur who offered up an explanation first, rising from his stool and rounding the island until he stood before JJ. “I owe you an apology, Jamie. I was far too quick to judge last night. You know the last thing I’d ever want to do is upset you.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at where Yaz was still seated. “Your girlfriend and I smoothed things over this morning. We didn’t want there to be any bad blood when you woke up.”

“Really?” 

“Really. The decorations were her idea, actually.”

JJ looked past Arthur at Yaz, who lifted her mug with a small smile. She still couldn’t read JJ for the life of her. Usually JJ was an open book, so her atypical restraint was putting Yaz on edge. She didn’t like it when JJ was quiet. 

Arthur put his hand on JJ’s shoulder. “Now, are you going to give your old man a hug or am I going to have to seek comfort in Nardole’s stubby arms?”

JJ huffed a laugh and wrapped her arms around Arthur, who positively melted in her embrace. “Merry Christmas, dad.”

“I love you, fox.”

“I love you too.”

Wistfulness—green as envy—sprouted like weeds from Yaz’s every pore. 

Though she was happy the two of them had managed to patch things over, she couldn’t help but covet the ease with which JJ and her family forgave and forgot, and how abundant physical affection was in their house. She thought of her own family, and how long it had been since she’d hugged her own father, and then she quickly cast the thought aside. Now wasn’t the time. 

Once Arthur and JJ drew apart, an uncertain hesitance followed. Yaz stared into her coffee and JJ shoved her hands into her pockets. Arthur, picking up on the weird vibe in the room, cleared his throat. 

“Yes, well. I’d better go and wake your mother, fox,” he said. “And try to tempt Nardole out of his room. He’s probably still sulking because nobody ate his dreadful pasta. I’ll see you both for breakfast?”

JJ nodded. “Defo.”

“See you, Arthur,” smiled Yaz. 

Once Arthur left the kitchen, Yaz still didn’t lift her eyes. She traced the rim of her mug with the tip of a finger and chewed her lip anxiously, not wanting to look JJ in the eye in case all she saw was that same disappointment she’d exhibited last night. Nothing made her feel worse than letting JJ down. 

“Gave me a scare when I woke up and you weren’t there,” said JJ. She padded across the tiled floor and pulled up the seat Arthur had since vacated. “Thought y’may have run off on me. Again.”

“Sorry. I only got up to get a glass of water, but then I found Arthur in the garden.”

JJ scoffed. “Yeah, I could smell the weed on his coat. What did you talk about?”

“You,” answered Yaz. “How much we both love you. How stupid we were to upset you like that. God, I’m so sorry, JJ. I really am. We never should have put you in that position. _I_ never should have put you in that position. It was thoughtless and stupid and—“

“Yasmin, stop.” JJ put her hand on Yaz’s back and, at last, Yaz turned her head. Regret was painted clear as a mural on JJ’s face. “I feel awful about the things I said to you last night. In hindsight, I were pretty harsh on you.”

“You probably weren’t harsh enough,” muttered Yaz. 

“That’s what you think, because you always punish yourself when things don’t go your way. You take it out on yourself. But I don’t wanna punish you, Yaz, and I don’t want you to feel like that’s what you deserve for tryin’ to defend yourself. I just wish you’d gone about it differently, that’s all.”

“I know,” sighed Yaz. “And I apologised to Arthur. I’ll apologise to your mum too, when I see her. Nothin’ like that’s gonna happen again, I swear.”

JJ stroked Yaz’s spine with her thumb and nodded. “For the record, I’m sorry too. You could never let me down. Not really. ‘Cause look at you,” she smiled. “Things got rough and you stuck around to work it out. There were a time when you wouldn’t have bothered. I’m proud of you, ladybird. And I’m really happy you’re here.”

Yaz squeezed JJ’s knee. “I’m happy I’m here too, babe.”

The skin around JJ’s eyes crinkled when she smiled and Yaz divined relief in every crease. _There_ was the smile she’d vowed to guard with her life—an easy oath to swear when it was worth exponentially more than the sum of breaths she had left to take. 

JJ leaned in as if to kiss Yaz. 

“No, don’t. I’ve got coffee breath,” Yaz protested, staying JJ with a hand at her chest. 

“Don’t care.” JJ knocked Yaz’s hand away and purloined a precious kiss. When she pulled away, she smacked her lips and nodded in approval. “Delicious.”

Yaz couldn’t even be mad. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

“I do have a bone to pick with you though, mate.”

“What, another one?” JJ threw her hands up. “Thought we’d just laid all our bones to rest!”

“You’ve been downplayin’ how much you love Christmas, haven’t you?” accused Yaz. Then, when JJ opened her mouth to protest, she said, “Don’t even bother tryna lie, ‘cause Arthur told me everything.”

JJ hunched her shoulders guiltily. “I just — I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Babe, how many times have I told you? I don’t care. I really appreciate the gesture, but I’d honestly rather see you enjoy yourself. So you’re gonna stick these on,” said Yaz, rummaging around in a bin bag by her feet and pulling out a headband with a pair of antlers stuck on top, “and we’re gonna finish decorating together. Okay?”

JJ’s face lit up and she grinned from ear to ear when Yaz slotted the headband onto her head. “Oh, no way! Not seen these in years! Do I still suit ‘em?”

Yaz laughed. They were a tad too small, but JJ made it work. “Absolutely.”

“Ooh, can we put on some Christmas tunes while we decorate?” JJ asked excitedly, leaping to her feet and darting for the nearest bag of decorations. She slung it over her shoulder like Santa with a sack of toys and held her hand out for Yaz. 

“Sure, babe.”

“Ace. Love you, Yaz. Let’s go this way, shall we?” she proposed, nodding towards the smaller archway through which a short corridor led towards the dining room.

“I’ve already done that room.”

“Well, let’s take the scenic route to another room.” JJ all but dragged Yaz into the archway — and then abruptly stopped. “Oh! Would you look at that?”

Bemused by JJ’s behaviour, Yaz followed her gaze towards the ceiling. As soon as her eyes landed, the penny hit the floor. Dangling over their heads was the fake mistletoe Yaz had affixed to the point of the archway earlier. She’d completely forgotten it was there. 

“Didn’t even notice it!” blagged JJ. “But rules are rules, Yaz.”

“You’re such a snake,” laughed Yaz. 

Shrugging off Yaz’s comment, JJ dropped her bag of ornaments onto the floor with a worryingly heavy thud, cupped Yaz’s face, and mashed their mouths together with such enthusiasm that Yaz’s back hit the wall. It was a proper Merry-Christmas sort of kiss, all coffee and toothpaste and forgiven bygones and winter heat. 

So of course Bill chose that exact moment to turn up in the kitchen.

She retched. “God, you two are revolting. I ain’t even had my buck’s fizz yet.” When JJ and Yaz didn’t so much as take a breather from one another to acknowledge her arrival, Bill cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “Oi, JJ, where’s your ma keep the champagne?”

Yaz and JJ merely lifted their middle fingers in unison.

They spent the next hour or so putting up the last of the decorations whilst festive music played the soundtrack to their efforts, and JJ seized every available opportunity to catch Yaz under the mistletoe — especially if Bill was around. 

The others all awoke one by one. While Nardole begrudgingly prepared breakfast, under the strict condition that nobody could leave the table until their plates were clean, everybody else helped Yaz and JJ to finish adorning the manor and helped themselves to Bill’s far-too-alcoholic buck’s fizz. 

Once they’d finished decorating, they headed to the dining room for breakfast. Passing through the kitchen once more, the mistletoe dangled in the archway ahead and JJ and Yaz shared a smirk.

Bill, who was directly behind them, shook her head preemptively. “Nah, I swear to god, if you guys snog in front of me one more time—“

“What you gonna do, Bill?” teased Yaz, backing towards the archway with JJ’s hand in hers. 

“You don’t wanna find out.”

JJ giggled, giddy as ever at the prospect of Yaz’s lips on hers. “I think we do.”

“Can’t break Christmas tradition, Bill,” Yaz reasoned with a wink. Then, simply because rubbing it in Bill’s face was so entertaining, she yanked JJ into the archway. Blocking Bill’s path with their bodies, they bumped their noses together and were just on the verge of a smug kiss when—

“Right you are, Yaz!” Bill shoved JJ out of the way and took her place. Using their moment of shock to her advantage, she grabbed Yaz by her face. “Can’t break tradition, can we?”

Then she landed a vindictive kiss on Yaz’s mouth. 

“ _Bill_!” yelled JJ. 

Yaz’s blind punch landed on Bill’s chest and she yelped and sprang back, rubbing the point of impact with a wince. “Oi! You punched me in the tit!”

“I’m about to do a lot worse,” threatened JJ.

“Have to catch me first,” Bill goaded.

With that, she took off at a sprint down the hallway. She flew past JJ in a blur, stirring a breeze that ruffled the hairs on her head, and JJ raced after her at an impossible velocity. Yaz followed with a reluctant groan. 

By the time she caught up to them in the dining room, JJ had pounced onto Bill’s back and Bill was trying and failing to shake her off, spinning around in circles and shouting a string of unintelligible curses. Seated at the far end of the dining table, Arthur and Jack watched the scene with slack jaws. 

“Knock it off, you muppets,” scolded Yaz. “You’re gonna hit the—“”

Next thing, JJ’s wild thrashing caused Bill to lose her balance. They toppled over. Just as Yaz predicted, the two of them went crashing right into the Christmas tree, sending it plummeting to the floor with an almighty cacophony of smashing baubles and breaking ornaments. Bill and JJ ended up sprawled on top of it. Heads knocked together, limbs became entangled, and needle-like leaves got caught in their hair and clothes. 

“Ow,” they both moaned, reaching for their respective foreheads. 

“What the bloody hell is going on in that room?” River shouted from the near distance. Her brisk footsteps echoed along the corridor and JJ’s eyes went wide with fear. 

Sighing wearily, Arthur turned to Jack. “Drink?”

“A strong one.”

After a hearty breakfast of salmon, eggs, bagels, and pastries (and after Bill and JJ cleaned up their mess at River’s instruction), they each retreated to their rooms to get ready for the day. Yaz brought up the box she’d found full of photo albums, figuring JJ might get a kick out of seeing them, and left it on the bed while she showered. 

In keeping with JJ’s family tradition of wearing abhorrent Christmas sweaters on the day, Yaz emerged from the restroom in a spare lended to her by Arthur: red and white with a furry Grinch on the front. She’d had to roll up the sleeves on account of it being too long for her short body. 

Yaz had laughed when she saw JJ’s jumper of choice — a tacky green affair displaying Rudolph’s face, complete with a light up red nose that played the _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_ tune when squeezed. She half expected JJ to still be playing with her garish sweater when Yaz came back into the room. She wasn’t. 

Instead, JJ was standing at the end of the bed with a photograph in her shaking hands. Atop the sheets, more pictures had spilled out of the box and lay in an unorganised heap. 

“Babe?” Yaz draped her hair towel around her shoulders and approached JJ’s side. 

“Where did you find these?” breathed JJ.

“In the attic,” said Yaz. “Near all the Christmas stuff. Why?”

JJ dropped the photograph she was holding onto the bed and backed away, as if frightened that something might emerge from the two dimensional gloss and reach out a hand to harm her. 

“JJ—“ Yaz put her hand on JJ’s arm. 

Mistake.

Flinching violently, JJ lifted her hands to her head protectively and pulled away from Yaz. “It wasn’t my fault,” she whimpered. “I promise. It wasn’t my fault. I’m sorry.”

“What wasn’t your fault, babe?” Yaz asked in a tone fraught with concern. 

“I didn’t mean to,” she trembled. JJ backed further away and Yaz didn’t know what to do — whether to follow or give her space. When JJ’s legs collided with the desk chair, she jumped, stumbled into the wall, jumped again. She spun in a dizzy circle and muttered a strained apology over and over. A broken record. 

Not broken.

JJ wasn’t broken. Just upset. If only Yaz understood the reason for her alarming reaction, she might be able to help. 

“Jamie,” she tried in a low, restrained voice. Panic suffused every cell in her body and she didn’t let on. “Jamie, it’s just you and me. Look at me.”

Yaz took a step forward and JJ bolted. She rushed past her towards the small walk-in closet and, when Yaz went to follow, she slammed the door in her face. Instinctively, Yaz reached for the handle. Then stopped. It wouldn’t do any good to barge in after her in the state she was in; Yaz would only frighten her further. 

“Shit,” Yaz mouthed silently. Chewing her lip, she looked over her shoulder at the bed. “Just—just one minute, babe. I’ll be right back.”

From the duvet, Yaz picked up the same picture JJ had been holding not a moment prior. And turned cold. 

“Oh, fuck.” She dropped it and picked up another. And another. More of the same. 

Each of the photographs looked to be a documentation of the wounds and emaciation JJ was suffering when River and Arthur found her. There was a picture of her midsection, in which she was lifting a grimy shirt to reveal a sickeningly skinny body whose ribs might have broken her skin apart for how sharp they jutted. There was a picture of some bruising on her wrist and jaw. Scabs on her knuckles. Clothes in rags and tatters. Hair knotted and filthy. Lips cracked. Scared eyes looking right at the camera with an unbidden plea for help embedded into every fleck of dulled gold. 

For the life of her, Yaz couldn’t understand why there were so many pictures like this—until she opened up a manila folder at the bottom of the box and uncovered months’ worth of correspondence between JJ’s parents and their lawyer. He’d asked them to acquire photographs of JJ’s neglect, that they might present it in court and build a stronger case for her. 

It was quite clear why these boxes had been tucked away in the attic and left to gather dust and cobwebs. Quite clear why JJ responded the way that she did. 

“You’re such an idiot,” Yaz groaned, quiet enough that JJ—still cowering in the closet—wouldn’t hear. She scooped all the pictures back into the box, slotted the lid back on, and hauled it out of the room. 

When she came back in, she could hear JJ sniffling through the slats in the closet door. Stepping lightly, Yaz drew towards the door and crouched down in front of it. 

“I’m so sorry, JJ.” Yaz spoke softly; she spoke like a consonant too harsh might take solid form and slice JJ with its sharp edges. “The photos are gone. I put ‘em away. No one’s here to hurt you, babe. I promise. It’s only me.”

“I didn’t mean to…” croaked JJ. 

“You’re not in trouble. Do you hear me? You’ve done nothin’ wrong, Jamie.”

Yaz couldn’t be totally sure what JJ said next, but she could have sworn the fragile words that took shape were, “Please don’t hurt me.” She thought an, “Again,” might have followed them, too.

Jaw quivering, Yaz kneeled in front of the door and rested her forehead on the wood. “JJ, what’s happening right now, it isn’t real. You’re having a flashback. Those people are long gone. No one’s never gonna hurt you again, okay? You’re safe.”

No answer. None save JJ’s tears. 

Yaz squeezed her eyes shut. If she could, right then, she’d have taken all of JJ’s pain. All those awful memories, all the wounds she suffered, all the hits she took—she’d bear them all just so that JJ didn’t have to. Swap lives with her. Suffer forever if it meant JJ never would again. But that wasn’t an option. Lacking the ability to perform miracles, Yaz was forced to think logistically. She had to anchor her in the moment.

But how?

Reassurances clearly weren’t helping and, given that she was in a dark closet, asking her to describe her surroundings would be a defunct task. But all hope wasn’t lost. 

“JJ, babe? What can you feel in there with you?” she prompted. “Just reach out your hands and tell me what you feel. Tell me what’s real.”

“I… it’s dark.”

“It’s okay. Let your hands do the seeing.”

Yaz waited patiently, unable to determine whether JJ was obliging her request through the downturned slats. Really, all she wanted was to throw the door open and scoop her up into her arms—that would have been counterproductive. 

“Uh… shoes,” uttered JJ. Uncertainty wobbled her voice. “There’s a pair of shoes in here. Runnin’ shoes, I think. Old ones.”

“That’s great, babe. What else?”

“I’m not sure what… oh. It’s my fez.”

“Your fez?”

“Yeah.”

“Should I ask why you have a fez?”

“Fezzes are cool,” JJ protested in such a sad, pouty voice that Yaz was instantly swayed—yes, fezzes were cool. She’d fight anyone who argued otherwise.

“Okay, yeah. What else is in there?”

A pause while JJ searched blindly. Something happened to her breathing and it might have been a sob or it might have been a weak chuckle. “The fox onesie. It’s… it’s still soft.” She inhaled audibly. “Smells like home. Mum used to use this detergent all the time in our old house and it… it smells exactly like that.” 

Yaz smiled. “What does it smell like?”

“Lavender and—and chamomile, I think.”

“Maybe you should wear it the next time we watch _Peter Pan_. It’s been a few weeks, I’m sure we’re overdue. What do you think?” Yaz waited but a response never came. “Y’know, I can’t even count how many times I’ve watched that film ‘cause of you. Honestly, I think know every bloody word of every bloody version by heart.”

“Now think of the happiest things,” JJ whispered—so hush Yaz nearly missed it.

“It’s the same as having wings,” they finished together. It sounded like JJ had moved closer to the door. 

Placing her hand flat against the wood, Yaz waited until she saw a shadow pass over the slats. JJ’s hand over hers. Piece by piece, she was coming back to herself. 

“Do you ever still wish you were a Lost Boy?” wondered Yaz. 

“Not since I met you,” said JJ. “Nothin’ in my life is bad enough to run away from while you’re in it. And growin’ old doesn’t sound so bad if I get to do it with you. I still kinda wish fairies were real though.”

“Yeah,” laughed Yaz. “I know you do.”

“Does that not scare you?”

“What? Fairies?”

“That I want to grow old with you.”

Yaz hesitated. JJ didn’t leave her enough time to answer before turning the handle and opening the door a crack. 

Moving slow and with care, Yaz eased the door open inch by inch and held back an aching sigh when she discovered JJ huddled in the corner of the closet with her arms wrapped around her knees and the hems of old clothes brushing her crown. When JJ didn’t make a move to climb out, Yaz nodded towards the narrow spot beside her with her brows raised in silent query. 

Wordless, JJ shuffled up to allow room for Yaz to squeeze in next to her. Once they were shoulder to shoulder, they regarded one another in the slabs of light diced by the door slats, and then each reached for the other in the same instant. 

Yaz held JJ for a while. JJ held Yaz right back. All they did, in that time, was breathe. It felt like the only thing they could do—the only thing that mattered. 

Breathe in.

Breathe out. 

Hold on. 

Their private sanctuary eventually crumbled when they heard JJ’s bedroom door burst open with such a lack of tact that it could only have been Bill. Her heavy footsteps marched into the room and came to a stop not far from where they hid. 

“Where the fuck…”

“In here,” Yaz called, when a brief nod from JJ told her that it was all right. 

“In where? Oh.” Bill yanked the door open and frowned down at JJ and Yaz. Yaz thought they must have made a strange picture, clinging to one another on the closet floor as they were. Instead of the snide remark she’d been anticipating, however, Bill took one look at JJ and her features went lax with understanding. “Uh, I just came to let you know that it started snowing. Though that’d be something the big kid might be interested in.”

Sure enough, the big kid in question perked right up. “It’s snowing?” JJ leaned past Yaz and tried to get a look through the window on the far side of the bedroom. 

“Yeah. Um. Sorry, do you want me to give you a minute? Kinda feels like I’m walking in on something here.”

“Doesn’t usually bother you,” chided Yaz. 

“Nah, you’re all right,” said JJ. “Just havin’ a moment. I have lots, nothin’ new. What about you? Are you enjoyin’ Christmas with the Smiths and Songs and Harknesses?”

Bill chuckled. She shoved aside some coats and weaselled her way into the narrow space opposite Yaz and JJ. “Yeah, it’s decent. I mean, I thought people only enjoyed Christmas on films and TV and shit. Didn’t think families were actually like this. You know, like… warm, I guess.”

“I used to think the same,” shared JJ. “I used to hate Christmas. And my birthday. Basically any kind of occasion you might expect your family and friends to show up for.”

“Yeah,” agreed Bill, picking at the sleeve of her own ugly sweater, which was designed to look like a Christmas tree and had felt decorations—baubles, candy canes, gingerbread men—hanging from the fabric. “Your folks are pretty incredible, mate. Hope you know how lucky you are.”

“I do.” JJ nudged Bill’s foot with her own. “Always room for you here, Bill. Honest.”

“Arthur’s definitely taken a shining to you,” said Yaz. 

Bill scratched her neck sheepishly. “Actually, he’s just asked me if I’d be interested in, like, a one on one tutoring thing. Reckons I’d be a shoe in on his course with a bit of help.” She shrugged. “It’s weird. Never really thought of myself as clever or anything.”

“Really? Bill, that’s brilliant! Do you know how many people would kill to be on dad’s course? Aw, high five, mate!” 

JJ gave Bill an enthusiastic high five and Bill rolled her eyes, but it was obvious how touched she was at Arthur’s offer. For as long as Yaz had known her, she’d never heard her speak of any goals or aspirations. All Bill ever seemed to care about was getting drunk and getting laid. It overjoyed Yaz to think that she might be finally setting her sights on a brighter horizon. 

“Nice one, mate,” commended Yaz. “Guess you can add swot to your Tinder resume now.”

Before Bill could retaliate with a cutting rebuke of her own, a shadow fell over the trio when Jack appeared in the doorway. He looked at them each in turn with a question written on the upward slant of his brow. 

“Just where I thought I’d find the three gays I was looking for. In a closet,” he quipped. His eyes landed on JJ. “Halloween ‘01? 

JJ dropped her eyes and nodded. 

“Alright,” sighed Jack. He brandished a hip flask from his trouser pocket like a prize and gestured for Bill to move over. “Make a little room, would you? The party’s crashing the party.”

After some awkward manoeuvring, Jack managed to slot himself in between a mildly miffed Bill and the outermost wall. He unscrewed his flask, took a swig, and handed it to JJ with a satisfied sigh. Bill cringed at his whiskey breath. 

“I’m lost,” said Yaz. “What’s Halloween ‘01?”

Jack held his tongue and waited for JJ to respond. 

After taking a small sip from the flask, JJ handed it to Yaz and then folded her arms back around her knees. “2001 was my first year at Cambridge. Back then… don’t get me wrong, I loved uni, but I were still pretty messed up. Even more than I am now, if y’can believe that.”

“None of that,” Yaz cut in. She resented it when JJ referred to herself as messed up, damaged, wrong. She was none of those things. 

“Sorry. What I mean is that I reacted a lot more severely to my triggers. And a lot more frequently. I’d been there just over a month and all my flatmates were throwin’ this Halloween party. I thought it’d be low key, you know, a few mates. Turned out to be this huge bash.”

“Even I heard about it,” said Jack. He intercepted the flask when Yaz held it out for Bill and stole himself another gulp before handing it over. “Couple of my buddies wanted to stop by. I didn’t realise it was at JJ’s flat ‘til we got there.”

“I tried to join in at first. Didn’t want my flatmates to think I were a wet blanket, y’know? But… I mean, the place were absolutely chocka, and more people just kept comin’. I weren’t used to being surrounded by so many people and so much loud noise. And obviously with the masks and the costumes and everythin’ it just became really overwhelmin’ really fast. I think the last straw were when somebody shoved past me. Probably didn’t mean to—everyone were wasted at this point. But I got pushed into the wall and it just set somethin’ off in me.”

“By the time I arrived,” Jack went on, “JJ was locked in her room and there were a crowd of people at her door trying to get in. Said she had some kinda breakdown and locked herself away. I shooed ‘em all away and spent half the night tryna coax her to open the damn door.”

“And did you?” asked Yaz.

“I did. Eventually.” JJ accepted the flask from Bill but didn’t drink straight away—merely fiddled with the cap. “Unlocked the door and then scrambled back to my spot in this little alcove in the wall.”

Despite the fact that Jack had been knocking back drinks since morning, he looked suddenly sober at the recollection. Clearly not a pleasant memory. 

“The party went on ‘til the mornin’ so Jack stayed with me. He distracted me with board games, dumb jokes… we sketched out some blueprints of, like, spaceships and castles and other far fetched stuff that’d never actually get built. Anythin’ to take my mind off the noise and get me out of my head.”

“Spaceships?” reiterated Bill. 

“Hers was bigger on the inside,” divulged Jack. “Travelled in time too. Always been a dreamer, this one.”

“And where would the world be without dreamers?” defended Yaz, giving JJ a supportive nudge in the arm. 

JJ smiled shyly at her. “Anyway, if I ever get an episode like that—flashbacks, hidin’ myself away, that sorta thing—Halloween ‘01 is sorta just the code we use so Jack understands what I’m goin’ through and what I need.” 

“Usually, all she needs is someone she trusts to stick with her and help her ride it out.” He looked at Yaz. “Which it looks like you managed. Kudos, kid.”

Yaz was about to dismiss Jack’s appreciation of her adept response to JJ’s reaction, was on the cusp of explaining that it was her fault JJ had an episode in the first place, but JJ found her voice first. 

“She were brilliant. Always is.” JJ pulled Yaz in by her neck and kissed her temple. “Thanks, ladybird.” 

“It’s nothin’,” muttered Yaz, undeserving as she felt of JJ’s praise and the grateful wink Jack shot her way. 

“It isn’t, actually,” refuted JJ.

“No, really—“

“She’s right,” Jack interrupted. “It’s not nothing. You’ve had a way with JJ ever since the beginning. Blew my mind when we got on that flight to Paris and you talked her down with just a few words. Still blows my mind when you do it now.”

Yaz met JJ’s eyes and got a little turned around by them. Always so openly adoring. “Just takes a little patience, that’s all.”

“You’d be surprised how many people lack even that,” said JJ. 

“But it’s not like you’re hard work. No harder than anyone else,” frowned Yaz. “I dunno, I guess I just—I can understand. I get you. Sounds dumb but, when you’re feelin’ things, it’s kinda like I’m feelin’ them too. Makes it easier to help.”

“Aww.” Bill clutched her heart. “It’s like I’m watching a soap opera.”

“Piss off, Bill.”

“Well, while we’re all sitting around appreciating how brilliant you are,” Bill pushed on, “I’d like to give a special shout out to how great your arse looks in those jeans, Yaz. Truly something else.”

“You really do have a gift for killin’ the mood,” credited JJ. “It’s quite impressive, actually.”

“Tell you what, if we boot Jack out and close the closet door, I’ll get you both in the mood in no time.”

Jack scoffed. “Why don’t we kick JJ out instead?”

“JJ’s fitter.”

“She’s got a point,” granted Yaz. 

Bill patted Jack’s shoulder condescendingly. “Better luck next time.”

Yaz wrinkled her nose. “Still not having a threesome with you, mate.”

“Ugh. Will you at least tell your bird to stop bloody hogging the flask if she ain’t gonna drink?”

“Should try cuttin’ down, Bill,” proposed JJ, holding the flask out of reach when Bill tried to swipe it out of her grasp. 

“Blaspheme. Hand it over.”

Yaz sniggered when Bill lunged forward again, only to be stopped by JJ’s palm on her forehead. JJ passed the flask to Yaz, and Yaz winked at Bill when the scotch burned down her throat. Bill wasn’t quick enough to intercept before Yaz tossed the flask to Jack.

“You’re all twats,” huffed Bill. “I’m gonna tell your mum on you, how about that?”

“Tell me what?” 

River’s voice made the four of them jump. Jack hastily threw the flask at Bill, and he and JJ smiled sweetly at their mother, who stood with her hands on her hips and a lack of surprise on her face. There were small baubles hanging from her earlobes and she wore a festive sweater with a snapshot of her family framed on the chest. 

“Nothin’, mum,” chimed JJ. Her smile might have melted all the snow and lured summertime out from hibernation two seasons early. 

“Did you find the kids?” Arthur shouted from beyond the bedroom.

“In the closet,” called River.

“Again? For heaven’s sake, I don’t think I have it in me to feign surprise the next time I catch Jack playing tonsil tennis with some poor chap behind the shed. Tell them to hurry up and come out, would you?”

River tilted her head. “Well, you heard the man. Out you come. Arthur wants to reunite Doctor and the Whos.”

“Really? Aw, ace!” exclaimed JJ.

“Oh, god,” groaned Jack. He got to his feet and helped Bill up. They filed out of the closet and Yaz and JJ followed.

“Doctor and the Whos?” asked Yaz.

“Our old band!” JJ beamed. “Wait ‘til you get a load of this, Yaz. We’re gonna blow your socks off.”

Once everyone was gathered in the living room, where a space had been cleared for a drum kit, mic, and keyboard, the band took the makeshift stage. River, Bill, and Yaz—seated on a sofa facing the others—waited while Arthur plugged in his electric guitar, Jack reluctantly took up residence behind the drums, and JJ sat behind the keyboard. Nardole stood to the side with a triangle. 

“I am so filming this,” said Bill, digging out her phone and pointing the camera right at them. 

“Is everybody ready?” shouted Arthur. 

“Do I really need to be here?” whined Nardole. “I have to keep an eye on the turkey. Nobody cares about the triangle anyway!”

“I do, Nardole,” JJ offered earnestly.

Nardole stopped complaining. 

After Jack counted them down with his drumsticks, the band kicked off their performance with a rock-ified version of _Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree._ The only one amongst them who actually appeared to know what they were doing was Arthur—dancing around the mic and grinning when he belted out the lyrics, capable fingers strumming in an expert blur. 

Jack’s drumming left something to the imagination. Mostly, he appeared to just be banging on whichever drum suited him in the moment. JJ was only slightly better on the keyboard. She kept up with Arthur, but occasionally hit the wrong keys without seeming to notice or care. She was obviously just happy to be a part of it. Nardole tinged the triangle every few seconds, accompanying the music with frequent, exhausted sighs. All in all, they made an enormous, incongruous racket. Yaz loved every second of it. 

They played a couple of Christmas songs, some 80’s and 90’s hits, and rounded their set off with an obliterated rendition of _Come on Eileen._

River pulled Bill and Yaz off the sofa and they all three danced along to the music—if it could be called that. When Bill shoved Yaz out of the way so she could dance one on one with River, Yaz grabbed Nardole’s hand and led him in a dance around the room. Nardole became very flustered when Yaz twirled him. Yaz caught JJ’s eye over the top of his head. They both laughed, and that was the missing note. The beat that completed the song. 

When it was over, the band clasped hands and bowed and everybody else applauded them. Lacking flowers, Bill plunged her hand into a bowl of toffees on the table and tossed them at the group—mainly, Jack. 

“That were brilliant,” lauded Yaz a few minutes later, taking JJ’s hands while the others all vacated the room one by one in search of a drink. 

“I kept messin’ up all the keys,” JJ admitted. “I’m no good at the keyboard. Much prefer a piano.”

“You play piano?”

JJ shrugged. “Only know a couple of songs. Dad tried teachin’ me properly when I were younger but I didn’t have the attention span to stick with it. I’m really not that good.”

“Show me?” Yaz asked. “Please?”

Pursing her lips, JJ looked around the room to ensure everybody was gone, and then nodded. Lacing her fingers through Yaz’s, she led her towards the Bösendorfer by the fireplace and they sat shoulder to shoulder on the stool. JJ lifted the dusty lid and cracked her fingers. If Yaz wasn’t mistaken, she looked nervous all of a sudden. 

Her hands hovered over the keys, brow dimpling as she presumably tried to recall how to begin. She blinked. Nodded once. Her fingers started to dance across the keys. 

Yaz had been expecting a classical piece—something with a long name that had no doubt been penned by a great of centuries past. The last thing she expected was for JJ to play the first notes of a _Coldplay_ number and then begin to sing. 

“ _Look at the stars_

_Look how they shine for you_

_And everything you do_

_Yeah, they were all yellow_ …”

JJ’s voice, all husk and heart and Yorkshire twang, lanced Yaz as though a sword through flesh. JJ didn’t look up from the keys.

“ _I came along_

_I wrote a song for you_

_And all the things you do…_ ”

Stunned, Yaz studied the concentration on JJ’s face with rapt adoration. She hardly even noticed when JJ skipped or messed up a note or two, but for the way a fleeting, frustrated frown would cross her features. 

Upon the chorus, JJ at last met Yaz’s gaze. 

“ _Your skin_

_Oh yeah, your skin and bones_

_Turn into something beautiful_

_You know_

_You know I love you so_

_You know I love you so…_ ”

She sang as if she were pouring the sentiments right down Yaz’s throat. Every word felt not like a regurgitated lyric but a vehicle for the truth of her soul in this, and every, moment.

“ _And you know_

_For you I’d bleed myself dry_

_For you I’d bleed myself dry_

_It’s true_

_Look how they shine for you…_ ”

Through the towering windows at their side, snow was falling in droves—so heavy the white light of it cast them in a pale luster—and JJ glanced at it with a smile while she sang. Still, she couldn’t keep her eyes off Yaz for long. 

“ _Look at the stars_

_Look how they shine for you_

_And all the things you do_.”

JJ’s finger slid off the final key and her hands dropped to her lap. “Told you I weren’t very good,” she mumbled with a self-deprecating chuckle. “That song always makes me think of you whenever I hear it. Probably why it’s my favourite.” 

An overhead lamplight cast an unbroken ring of light around the two of them. A perfect, golden ring. 

Yaz looked at JJ’s naked fingers. 

What were they missing?

For now, Yaz’s own hand would have to make do. JJ’s skin was warm when their knuckles locked. Yaz’s was a few degrees warmer. 

“Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t mean to hesitate before.”

JJ frowned. “What?”

“When you asked whether it scared me—the idea of growing old with you. I didn’t mean to hesitate,” elucidated Yaz. “Actually, I want you to know that if you even think about growing old without me…” She was going to make an empty threat. A joke. But it wasn’t a laughing matter. “I don’t think I could take it.”

The stool creaked when JJ leaned back to gauge Yaz, who held her sincerity up to the light. Vulnerable and unafraid. 

“Well,” she began, sparing a look at Yaz’s naked fingers, “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

How many pages until the next chapter? 

Not many, Yaz hoped. Not many at all. 

She touched JJ’s cheek and whispered, “Kiss me.”

So JJ did. In their own halo of orange light, in the cherished heart of a family home, in the eye-whites of a mighty blizzard, in love, JJ kissed Yaz. She kissed her like all the delight in the world existed only on the brush of Yaz’s tongue and the curve of her lips; behind her gums and between her teeth. It was as if tomorrow may never come, and today was all they had. 

Yaz knew that not to be true. 

She was already thinking a thousand tomorrows ahead, and a thousand more after that, and how many more thousands before the blonde hair between her fingers turned white and how she’d never stop stroking it anyway. 

Not ‘til death.


	15. i'll be the summer, and you'll be okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothin much happens in this one sorry x

Yaz had never felt so sad to be surrounded by so much love. 

From pulling Christmas crackers at the dinner table and listening to JJ’s family read out their terrible jokes—inevitably met by a chorus of groans and sighs—to watching River give Arthur a much needed hand when he made a pig’s ear of carving the turkey, to hearing Jack and JJ proffer wild stories of their youth and the untold shenanigans they got up to behind their parents’ backs, to the way River always touched JJ’s shoulder when she passed her by. 

That last one struck especially deep. Yaz’s own mother used to do that with her, and the distant memory of it plunged itself between her lungs like a fine blade. 

It was such a simple, thoughtless act of affection. 

To touch without reason; to reach just because. A subconscious need for physical affirmation of the presence and existence of your very dearest. Here, in this house, love was so loud. Loud even in the bickering and the flicking and the scolding and the eye rolls. Loud in piping hot food and salt passed between hands and the unabashed devotion to this, their day of celebration. 

But, in the end, it was _their_ day. 

Their culture.

Yaz only felt a fraud for participating. An outsider looking in. Which isn’t to say that she didn’t feel welcome—River and Arthur had been nothing short of wonderful with her all afternoon—only that every mouthful of turkey and stuffing made her yearn a little more for a bite of her dad’s pakora, and she couldn’t help but draw parallels between the tacky, overboard Christmas decorations and the lanterns, flowers, and twinkling lights she used to help her parents put up before hosting family and friends over Eid, and the list went on. 

Her phone burned in her pocket over dinner, and burned even hotter when they filed into one of the smaller living areas for the gift exchange. Yaz and JJ shared a reclining armchair by the tree, Arthur, River, and Nardole sat on the sofa, and Jack and Bill sat on the floor at either side of the table. 

Yaz thought she’d been doing a fairly decent job at embodying the Christmas spirit; at smiling wide enough and laughing hard enough and simply being enough. 

Except, while Nardole tore open his present from Jack—a permed wig and a French maid costume—and the others all doubled over in stitches, Yaz forgot, for just a second, to keep up the charade. The smile she attempted didn’t take. JJ squeezed her hip lightly. 

“Where’ve you gone, ladybird?” she whispered by her ear. 

Yaz, sitting on JJ’s lap, leaned into her and rubbed one of the arms wrapped around her waist in a gesture she hoped was reassuring. “I’m right here, babe.”

JJ’s doubt was plain. She glanced at her parents, who were currently unravelling a perfectly wrapped selection of rare, collectible vinyls JJ had spent the year amassing for them. One or two were even signed. 

“Y’know, mum and dad wanted to get you a present when I told ‘em you were comin’,” JJ murmured. “I told ‘em not to. It’s just—well, y’said not to get you anythin’ and I didn’t wanna offend you. Told Jack the same. Should I not have? Don’t want you feelin’ left out.”

“Jamie, I’m not bothered about getting presents. Believe me.”

“Really? ‘Cause, I mean, I did kinda get you a little somethin’ in the end,” JJ revealed with an apprehensive wince. 

“You did?”

“Is that bad? It’s still in my room. I couldn’t give it to you in front of everyone—it’s not exactly, uh, appropriate. You don’t even have to take it. I only wanted you to know I were thinkin’ of you. Like I always am.”

“That’s sweet, babe,” smiled Yaz, watching Bill pick up the present she and JJ bought for her. “I actually got you a little somethin’ too.”

JJ lifted her chin from Yaz’s shoulder. “What?”

“I know, I know. I said no presents. S’pose I just wanted to feel a bit more involved.”

“And do you? Feel involved?”

Yaz stalled. She turned her head and JJ scanned her face as if for clues, frown deepening with every second that ticked by without answer. 

JJ closed her arms tighter around Yaz. “What’s wrong, baby? Tell me.”

“Oh, sick!” grinned Bill, tossing aside the ribbons she’d made of the paper Yaz and JJ had wrapped her gift in and holding it up for closer inspection. It was a leather jacket adorned with a series of traditional tattoo style prints across the material: a snake winding around a sleeve, a swooping swallow over the breast, and a reaper on the back. Custom made and far from cheap. Bill lowered the garment. “Feel kinda bad for just stealing you a crate of scotch from the club now, JJ.”

“A crate you’re already making light work of,” noted Jack with a pointed look towards the half empty bottle beside her. 

“Sharing’s caring, mate.” Bill got to her feet with a bit of a stumble and pulled the jacket on over her sweater. She extended her arms and twirled, and both River and Arthur picked their wine glasses up off the table to avoid breakages. “Oh, this is fit. Fucking love you guys.”

Bill threw herself onto the armchair, and onto JJ and Yaz, to prove her drunken gratitude with a too-tight hug. Yaz and JJ grunted with the weight of her.

“Yeah, I’d love you more if you weren’t crushing me to death,” groused Yaz. 

“I don’t think I can actually get back up,” Bill slurred into her shoulder. “Quite comfy, you two.”

JJ caught Yaz’s eye over the top of Bill’s curls. Though her mouth remained closed, her concern was a voice in Yaz’s head all the same. _To be continued._ Yaz nodded. 

Not long later, once the snowfall had scaled back, JJ’s parents proposed a walk around the property to help with the groups dwindling sobriety—the group, of course, meaning Bill and Jack. So they all donned their winter coats and boots and trudged out into the snow. River wouldn’t let JJ take a step outside without first fixing a fur-lined trapper hat to her head. JJ pulled a face but Yaz found her nauseatingly sweet in it.

She tied JJ’s ear flaps together with the clasp under her chin and kissed her nose, the scar on her cheek, and then her mouth. Gloved hand in gloved hand, they followed the others outside.

A pure white sky and a frost-toothed breeze greeted them as they descended the front steps onto the thick carpet of snow sticking to the grass. The snowman Arthur had inflated earlier had come loose of its ties and was presently bouncing merrily down the hill. Arthur swore loudly. When Nardole snickered, he turned on him with raised brows.

“Was that you volunteering to help me wrangle it back up the hill? How generous of you!”

Nardole’s face fell. “But—but I can’t. You know I’m afraid of snowmen!”

“A fine day to face your fears, don’t you think?” Arthur clapped Nardole on the back and guided him down the garden path. His nefarious smile only widened when Nardole began to squeal like a wounded babe. 

“I’ll give you a hand,” volunteered JJ. She went trotting after them, leaving Yaz to walk side by side with River. 

Bill and Jack were just ahead—scooping up handfuls of snow, sloshing thimbles of scotch from their recently refilled flask into them, and eating them like alcoholic snow cones (minus the cones). So much for sobering up. 

Yaz had her phone in her hands. She opened up the latest message thread between herself and her mum. It had been months since they’d last talked. 

**Mum** : _Happy Birthday, Yaz. Hope you’re having fun. We’re all thinking of you back home. Did our present arrive on time? Xxx_

**Yaz** : _yeah it did. thanks mum it fits great._

**Mum** : _Oh good I’m glad! Maybe you could give us a call later? Would be nice to hear your voice. Xxx_

**Mum** : _I would suggest a Skype call but your father won’t take the tape off any of the cameras in the house. Thinks we’re being watched by the government! Anyway, let me know. I love you. Xxx_

**Yaz** : _sorry but i’m really busy today, maybe another time?_

**Mum** : _Of course. Just let us know when. We miss you. Xxx_

Yaz never got back to her. 

When she used to send them money on a regular basis, it at least gave them an excuse to correspond more frequently—even if it was just so that her parents could thank her and ask how she was holding up. Since JJ’s charitable donation to the Khan fund, Yaz felt as if the door had been slammed on the foot she’d kept in it. And it didn’t feel like freedom or release. 

It felt like being left out in the cold. 

Yaz wasn’t blameless, she knew, but she was also _their_ child. Shouldn’t they be trying harder not to lose her? Perhaps they felt they already had—a long time ago. Perhaps they mourned the daughter they wanted on the side of that country road all those years ago.

“A watched phone never rings, you know?” mused River. 

Yaz jumped. She’d forgotten she wasn’t walking alone. “Sorry,” she mumbled, putting away her phone and slipping her hands into the fleecy pockets of her sherpa jacket. 

“Waiting for an important call, are you?” 

“Oh, no. I, uh, I’m just—“

“Missing someone?” River came to a stop, so Yaz did the same. “Winter can be a tough time for all that, can't it?”

“For all what?”

“Loneliness.”

Yaz looked away. Up ahead, JJ and Arthur were trying to drag the snowman up the path, but when Nardole got squeamish and let go of its hand, it blew out of their grasp and went tumbling back down the hill. Even from this distance they could hear the berating Arthur gave him as they all chased after it again. 

“Your family’s amazin’, you know?” Yaz said, but the longing in her tone massively eclipsed the delight, and so the compliment came off far more covetous than she’d intended. 

“We’re very lucky,” agreed River. 

“But is it really luck?”

“How do you mean?

If Yaz hadn’t been drinking and hurting since morning, she might have thought to keep her notions to herself. As it was, her inhibitions were melting faster than the snow; she found herself talking without filter. 

“I mean, it’s effort, isn’t it? You and Arthur put effort into keeping your family close like this. And so do JJ and Jack. ‘Cause stuff like this—“ Yaz swept an arm broadly around their surroundings— “doesn’t just happen. Families don’t just…”

“Just what?”

“You know, like, show up. Family doesn’t just show up.”

River lifted her brows. It was uncanny how much she reminded Yaz of JJ when she tilted her head just so. Lazily falling flakes in the air framed the acute worry steeping her eyes—the same brand of undiluted care JJ often adopted. Yaz could have sworn there was a blood relation. 

“Oh, sweetie,” she murmured. “That’s exactly what family is supposed to do. Show up for one another. Isn’t that what family means?”

Yaz gasped a bitter laugh and shook her head desperately. “I have no idea.”

River’s shoulders sank. “Your parents are alive, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do they love you?”

“I mean, yeah.”

“And you them?”

“‘Course I do, but it’s complicated.”

“How so?”

“When I joined the club all those years ago, it put a huge strain on our relationship. Now, in a week’s time, it’ll be a year since I’ve even seen them. I think I’ve heard my mum’s voice, like, once in all that time.”

“Okay. Answer me this,” began River. “Do you ever call them?”

Yaz frowned. “Well, no, but they hardly ever call me.”

“Why should they be the ones to do it?”

“They’re my parents.”

“And?”

“And—what do you mean? That’s it. They’re my parents, and they’re supposed to love and accept me unconditionally. It shouldn’t be on their kid to put all the work in.”

“But you’re not a child anymore, Yaz. You’re an adult. And, as an adult, you ought to know that people aren’t perfect. That includes your parents. I don’t know the whole story, but you tell me they love you. If that’s true, then take it from a mother: they miss you. They’d probably love nothing more than to see your name flash up on their phone screens right now.”

“But they made me feel…” Yaz exhaled quietly and ducked her chin. “All these years feelin’ like a pariah in my own family. Feelin’ like I should be ashamed. How can I just put that away? How can I forgive that?”

“I don’t know,” confessed River. “Maybe you can’t. You have to ask yourself if you’d be okay living the rest of your life not knowing if things could have been put right. If the answer’s yes—well, that’s up to you. If not, then you need to be the bigger person. You need to call them. Your mum and dad won’t be around forever, Yaz. How many more years with them do you have left to throw away?”

“But I’m still _so_ angry.”

“And isn’t it exhausting?”

Yaz’s lower lip trembled. Unable to speak without risking the flood, all she could manage was a nod. 

But the best mothers always know, don’t they? They always know when a child is in need—be it their own flesh and blood or not. River was no exception to the rule. 

All maternal empathy and understanding, she clicked her tongue and pulled Yaz into a hug. 

And it was needed. 

It really was. 

“One for the road,” River murmured, rubbing circles on Yaz’s back, “until your mother can give you the one you’re really waiting on.”

“Thanks, River,” whispered Yaz. “I’m really sorry for unloading on you like this.”

“Don’t you dare apologise.” 

“But—“

“Not a request. You’re never putting anybody out by having feelings, Yaz. And if I hear you apologise for them one more time, I’ll be really rather cross with you, and believe me when I say you won’t like that one bit. Are we understood?”

Uncertain as to how serious River was, Yaz decided to play it safe with a keen nod and a polite, “Yes, ma’am.”

River hugged her just a little tighter. 

“What’s goin’ on?” came a tentative voice from behind Yaz’s back. 

River and Yaz pulled apart, but River left her hand on Yaz’s shoulder. The mother’s touch. Yaz thought her heart might just melt out of her body and stain the snow around her grisly red, but she couldn’t say whether it was the good sort of hurt or the bad. 

Confused—and a touch anxious, if the way she was picking at her cuticles was any indicator—JJ looked between Yaz and River. “Everythin’ okay?”

“Fine, babe. I were just tellin’ your mum why, y’know, I were a bit off before.”

JJ took an attentive step closer. “Yeah?”

Yaz took a deep breath. 

“I miss my family,” she said. It felt strange, saying it plain like that. No buts or ifs or neverminds. Just the sad, undecorated truth. She really, really missed them. 

“Oh…” With burgeoning awareness, JJ looked out across the garden. 

The sky was quickly darkening, as was winter’s way, but the multicoloured lights affixed to the manor’s facade were bright and abundant enough to illuminate their immediate surroundings in bright hues of red and green. 

Arthur and Nardole had just finished tying the snowman back down after a great deal of dramatics, Jack was building a snowman in an effort to antagonise Nardole further, and Bill—actually, Bill was nowhere to be seen, which meant she was probably getting up to no good. 

“Oh, ladybird, I didn’t even see it. How didn’t I see it?” JJ thudded her palm against her forehead. “I’m so stupid.”

“Oi,” River and Yaz scolded at once. 

“Sorry,” muttered JJ when River pulled her hand away from her head. “Not stupid. What’s the word?”

“Happy’s the word, babe,” offered Yaz. “You’re happy, as you should be. And I am too. You don’t need to feel bad ‘cause you’ve been enjoyin’ yourself.”

JJ pushed her hat further up her head to keep the fur out of her eyes. 

“Do you wanna go?” she asked. 

The hat fell down again and Yaz laughed, fixing it for her and tightening the strap. 

“I really, honestly don’t,” Yaz answered. “We’re havin’ a good time, aren’t we? So let’s just keep doin’ that.”

“What about your fam?”

“I dunno. I’ll figure it out.”

JJ pinched her lips together. “Well, maybe I can help you. Whatever you decide.” 

Her eyes latched, for a hundredth of a second, on River. Taking her cue, River gave both women a squeeze on the arm on her way over to Arthur. Partly concealed on the other side of the fountain, he was not-so-discreetly rolling himself a joint.

“And where did you find that?” called River.

Arthur sprang about a foot into the air, scattering weed and rolling tobacco down his clothes and across the snow. “What? Where? Haven’t the foggiest what you’re talking about, woman.”

“Well, for heaven’s sake, don’t waste it!”

When her mother drew out of earshot, JJ carried on in a considerably lower volume. “This has been botherin’ you all day?”

Yaz just shrugged.

“I _knew_ somethin’ was up. It makes me anxious when you don’t talk about things, Yasmin,” JJ sighed. “It makes me think the worst, ‘cause when you get all in your head, you always get this look on your face…”

“What look?”

“...Remember the day you told me you were callin’ things off?”

Yaz rocked back. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Same look, every time. And every time, my heart skips about a dozen beats. No good for my health, I’m tellin’ you.” 

“But you know I wouldn’t do that again, right?”

“Regardless, Yaz, that were one of the worst moments of my adult life. And when I think about what came after, the things you did to cope, it just twists me up inside. I don’t ever want you goin’ through anythin’ like that again. And definitely not alone. So you can always share these kinds of things with me, y’know? It’s what I’m here for.”

“It’s not like that. I just didn’t wanna put a downer on your Christmas, that’s all.”

“You wouldn’t.” JJ tugged Yaz closer by the zip of her jacket. “D’you know how overjoyed I get when you talk to me about things? When you choose me, of all people, to rely on? It’s all I ever wanted, Yaz—to be there for you. How’s that ever gonna make me sad?”

“Trust me, babe, the novelty’ll wear off when I’m moanin’ to you for the hundredth time about the same old shit.”

“So this gets to you a lot?”

Shivering in the chill, Yaz wrapped her arms around herself and bowed her head. “Comes and goes, I guess. Lately it’s been comin’ more than goin’.” With a frustrated huff, she set her sights on the blue-black evening canopy overhead. “Doesn’t help—all these bloody long nights and dark days. It just messes with my head. Gets me down.”

“You never mentioned,” said JJ, eyeing the gloomy sky like it had made an enemy of her this night. 

“It’s not a big deal. My therapist said it’s pretty common.”

“I could take you somewhere? Y’know, somewhere hot. Sandy. Where there’s loads of palm trees and warm waves and those funky little coconut drinks you get. Winter doesn’t even have to exist for you, Yasmin, if you don’t want it to. We can just run away from it. Ride the heatwaves ‘til the world’s end.”

Affinity clung to the teeth of Yaz’s smile. “I love you so much for sayin’ that, babe… but I don’t think it’s gonna help this time. I think I’m just gonna have to finally deal with my crap.”

JJ’s respondent nod was not without solicitude. “You’ll be all right, Yaz. Promise. And in the meantime,” she went on, drawing Yaz closer, tucking her head under her chin, and rubbing her back to generate heat, “I can keep your bones warm all by myself! I’ll be your own personal radiator. And when it gets dark, we’ll close all the blinds and turn all the lights on, and I’ll paint the walls to look like an endless sunrise, and we’ll play really happy music, and you can finally teach me to salsa properly. I’ll even make those coconut drinks from scratch. Can’t be too hard, really, can it?”

Yaz laughed into JJ’s puffy coat. “You’re gonna be my own personal summer, is that it?”

“Exactly, ladybird. I’ll be the summer, and you’ll be okay.” JJ kissed Yaz’s crown. “That’s a Jamie Smith guarantee.”

“Sounds good to me, babe.”

“But, Yaz?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ll tell me, won’t you, if the nights get a little _too_ long and the days get a little _too_ dark?”

Yaz lifted her head just in time to see a falling snowflake get caught in JJ’s eyelashes. Careful, she reached out and pinched it to water between her fingertips. Yaz watched it melt into her glove, and JJ watched Yaz for a response. 

“You’ll be the first person I come to,” said Yaz. 

“You swear?”

“I swear on Peter Pan.”

JJ’s eyes widened. “That’s serious stuff.”

“I know.”

JJ’s face bloomed like a moonflower under the glow of love and relief. She tucked one of Yaz’s curls behind her ear and stroked her jaw with her thumb, and then leaned in as if to kiss her. It probably would have been a really nice kiss, too, had Bill not then come barrelling down the garden with a wheelbarrow full of snowballs. 

“Merry Christmas, guys!” 

She launched one of the snowballs right at them and it hit JJ square on her cheek. JJ’s face was a picture of total shock—her jaw hung open and her hand fell from Yaz’s laughing face while snow crumbled and melted against her skin and the flap of her hat. 

Bill pumped her fist in the air. “Bullseye!” 

JJ turned around with vengeance burning behind her eyes. “You better run, mate. Yaz?”

“Already on it,” said Yaz, crouching down to gather up a large scoop of snow. 

“Ah, shit.”

Performing a hasty U-turn with her wheelbarrow, Bill wasn’t quite fast enough at gathering up the momentum needed to push away from them before Yaz launched her packed snowball right at the back of her head. Bill yelped when the cold snow began to melt down the back of her jacket.

Yaz and JJ high fived, but they were forgetting that Bill was locked and loaded with a healthy dispensation of ammunition. 

She turned on them with a snowball in each hand. They swapped a nervous glance, and then they bolted. 

Laughing maniacally, Bill chased after them and hurled her snowballs. One of them whizzed right past JJ’s ear; the other caught Yaz’s shoulder. Refusing to go down without a fight, Yaz scooped up snow as she ran and called for JJ to do the same. 

Alas, when they ran by Jack—who was tightrope-walking the lip of the freezing fountain—JJ saw an opportunity she couldn’t waste. Rather than toss her snowball, she jumped up at him and slam-dunked it on top of his head. Drunk and caught unawares, he toppled gracelessly from the wall, landing right in the sub-zero water with an almighty yell and a huge splash. 

“Jamie!” he roared, emerging from the shallow water with sopping clothes, bright-pink skin, and a serious case of the shivers. 

JJ sniggered. “Whoops.”

River and Arthur, enveloped in a cloud of smoke, poked their heads around the other side of the fountain

“What in the name of—“

Arthur was cut off when, with seriously misjudged aim, a snowball flew from Bill’s hand and exploded right into his open mouth. Everybody froze. Nardole, who’d been making his way over to Arthur, whined uncomfortably and turned on the spot in an effort to avoid his rage. He managed one measly step. 

Without looking, Arthur shot out his hand and grabbed Nardole by the collar of his coat. 

“Nardole?”

“Uh. Yes, Arthur?”

Arthur licked the snow from his lips and controlled fury burrowed its way beneath his frozen brows. 

“Ammo,” he commanded. 

“But I—“

“And be bloody quick about it.” Arthur gave Nardole a gentle push. 

Miserably resigned to his fate, Nardole knelt in the snow and began to pack Arthur a colossal snowball. 

“Fuck,” muttered Bill. “Where’s my wheelbarrow?”

“This one?” asked Yaz. She had one hand wrapped around the handle and a pilfered snowball in the other. JJ plucked one from the stockpile with a troublesome grin. 

“Right—no, wait.” Bill backed up with raised palms. “If we’re doin’ teams, River’s on mine.”

“Yeah, you _wish_ she was on your team,” Yaz ribbed under her breath. 

“And what makes you think I’m not?”

Yaz and JJ started when River appeared, as if from thin air, at their backs. She was already armed—with both a snowball and a cocksure, challenge of a smirk. 

“C-count me the hell out,” Jack implored through chattering teeth, struggling still to climb out of the fountain with his numb fingers and trembling limbs. His dripping hair had flattened, and any semblance of colour faded fast from his ghost-white skin. 

“Aw, givin’ up already?” baited JJ. 

Jack daggered JJ with a hostile glare, but he didn’t get the chance to bite back. 

“Bombs away!” warned Arthur. He chucked his snowball with incredible precision; it smacked Bill right in the forehead.

She staggered back, blinking away her shock. 

Jack burst out laughing so Bill launched one at him in retaliation. It hit the side of his head, so he gritted his teeth, packed a snowball, and didn’t even get to throw it before River smeared hers right in his face. 

Arthur’s onslaught, on the other hand, was indiscriminate. 

Nardole rolled and packed with surprisingly quick hands. No sooner would Arthur let another snowball loose than Nardole passed him another. They were a well-oiled machine—if grumpy and extraordinarily shouty. Somehow, even whilst bickering like a married couple, they still managed to absolutely thrash the others. 

One of his snowballs hit Yaz, so JJ vowed, with no shortage of theatrics, to avenge her. Her white-knight mission didn’t exactly go according to plan. 

Rather than hit Arthur, her snowball knocked the beanie from Nardole’s head and he squealed melodramatically, accidentally squeezing the snowball he was shaping for Arthur into dust. Enraged at Nardole’s shortcomings, Arthur picked up Nardole’s hat, filled it with snow, twisted it shut, and hit him over the head with it. Repeatedly. While Nardole ran away screaming. 

He may well have carried on if Jack hadn’t landed a snowball to the back of his neck. Arthur turned slowly. Jack’s eyes went wide. Yaz and JJ backed away. Bill used Nardole as a human shield, much to his verbal dissent. 

Staring Jack down, Arthur re-filled the beanie with a fresh filling of snow and smiled menacingly. Jack gulped, but he didn’t run. No, instead—when Arthur let loose the tightly-crammed beanie and it shot right for his face—Jack ducked. The beanie collided with River’s chest. 

“Uh oh,” mumbled JJ. 

Yaz understood perfectly her reaction.

Because, when River looked up, she was smiling. She was smiling, and it didn’t look like a smile. It looked like a deadly threat. 

“Okay, hold on a minute,” started Arthur with an uneasy laugh. “You saw that that was an accident, right? Everybody saw that that was an accident? Come on. Nardole?”

“Don’t look at me.”

“Wh—Jamie?”

“Sorry, dad.”

“Oh, you bunch of sorry bloody traitors.” Arthur glanced around desperately until his gaze settled on Bill. “Ah, Bill. You’ll help me out, won’t you?”

“Sorry, Art,” shrugged Bill, making a show of rubbing her forehead. “Karma’s a right bitch.”

Incredulous and betrayed, Arthur’s mouth hung open. He looked as if he might be about to launch into a whole diatribe about the merits of loyalty, but then the snow beneath River’s feet crunched with a calculated step closer and his jaw snapped shut. 

“Ready, sweetie?”

“Come now, darling,” reasoned Arthur, “we really mustn’t fight.”

“Believe me, it won’t be much of a fight.”

Arthur eyed the snowball in her hands. It wasn’t massive, but it was packed, streamlined, and heavy—like a bullet. The muscles in Arthur’s legs twitched. 

“It’s no use running, love,” drawled River. 

Arthur made a valiant attempt anyway. Deserting all dignity, he whirled around with a whoosh of his overcoat and bolted back towards the house. River didn’t even chase him. She aimed her snowball, closed an eye, and fired. 

The snowball collided with the back of Arthur’s head and he cried out, stumbling to a stop and clutching his head as if he’d just been whacked upside it with a bat. 

“Got you,” winked River. 

“Ow!” Arthur whined. “Did you—there was a _rock_ in that!”

“Of course there wasn’t a rock in it. Don’t be a baby, dear,” dismissed River. 

Arthur felt his hair and gaped. “I’m bleeding!”

“Pretty sure that’s just melted snow, mate,” snickered Bill. 

“If you’ve got a boo boo,” interjected Nardole, “I can always kiss it better for you.”

“Right, you little—“

In an obvious effort to avoid the crossfire of what was sure to be a bloody battle, JJ tugged on the elbow of Yaz’s jacket and nodded her head over her shoulder. They slipped away unnoticed amidst the carnage and disappeared around the side of the house. 

With the calamity they left behind reducing to a distant din, JJ made certain nobody had followed them, put her hands on Yaz’s waist, and then pushed her up against the wall with a coy smile. 

“Hiya,” she purred.

Yaz curled her fingers into JJ’s coat. “Hi there.”

“We got interrupted before.”

“We did. You were gonna kiss me.”

“Yeah.” JJ clicked her tongue. “Shame, too. It were gonna be an ace kiss. Kissin’ Yaz in the snow on Christmas day? Now that would’ve been properly brilliant.”

“S’pose I’ll just have to imagine it then, won’t I?” lamented Yaz with a sorry shrug. 

A playful smile danced upon both their eyes. 

JJ unfastened the strap of her hat and pulled it off her head. Snowflakes were fast to collect in the ruffled locks of her hair; her pink nose twitched when one landed on the tip of it. 

“Don’t tell mum,” she entreated, tucking the cap into her coat pocket, “but this is the kind of kiss you’ve gotta take your hat off for.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because, ladybird, it isn’t just a kiss.” Hands on Yaz’s hips, JJ shifted closer until Yaz’s back was pressed flat against the wall. She licked her lips and stared at Yaz’s mouth—apparently forgetting the rest of her sentence amidst the cool fog of Yaz’s breath. 

“Then what is it?” asked Yaz, sliding her hands up the shoulders of JJ’s coat and locking them together behind her neck. 

JJ blinked back to sense. 

“Well, it’s a thank you.”

“For what?”

“For givin’ me the best Christmas ever. I know you don’t celebrate, and it might not mean that much to you—“

“It does,” interrupted Yaz. “It means a lot to you, so it means a lot to me.”

JJ’s eyes glinted merry in the festive lights and she wound her arms around Yaz’s waist. “Well, I just wanna let you know that I see how you’ve been tryin’ today, even though it’s been hard for you, and I’m really, truly thankful. You’re a genuine wonder to me, Yasmin Khan—you really are. Do you even have any idea just how _good_ you are?”

“Babe,” Yaz protested, turning her head away if only in a vain effort to hide the colour in her cheeks. 

“No, really, I mean it. I know you don’t always think of yourself like that, but you’re so bloody decent and selfless and...and just…good isn’t enough, but it’s all that’s comin’ to mind. I’ll think of somethin’ better later and kick myself.”

Yaz didn’t understand why she was suddenly so affected, but it was a struggle even for her to croak out a feeble, “Good’s fine.”

She became even more flustered when JJ stroked her temple with her thumb, gleamed at her, and told her—in the softest, sugar-glazed register—“You’re doin’ so well. I’m proud of you, baby. I really am.”

Perplexed by the commotion JJ’s exaltations stirred within the deepest reaches of her, Yaz didn’t know what else to do except shut her up with a kiss. 

She yanked JJ in by her lapel and swallowed the aftertaste of approval from her cold lips, and it made her shiver (and she couldn’t say why). JJ was clearly caught off guard by Yaz’s reaction. She gasped against Yaz’s mouth and didn’t close her eyes at first; too busy staring at Yaz with wide, curious eyes. 

Yaz rolled hers back and broke off the one-sided kiss. 

“Are you gonna kiss me back or what?” 

“Sorry. Yes, absolutely,” nodded JJ. She was still frowning. “I just didn’t realise that’d get you so… worked up.”

“It didn’t,” Yaz denied with a fierce glare. 

JJ smirked. “I think it did, didn’t it?”

“Right, no kisses for you.”

Yaz tried to peel away from the wall and shove past JJ but, with a kind-hearted laugh, JJ blocked her path and held her steady with her hands on her shoulders. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll say nothin’ more on the subject. Promise,” she insisted, brushing her nose against Yaz’s and holding her close. “You’re still gonna kiss me, right? ‘Cause I _really_ wanna kiss you.”

Yaz ground her jaw but, when JJ batted her lashes like that, it was impossible to deny her a thing. “Fine.”

JJ’s lips curled with impish delight. “Good girl.”

“Jamie, I swear to—“

It was JJ’s turn to shut Yaz up with a kiss. Yaz’s cheeks were burning hot when her infuriated riposte fizzled out against the soft punch of JJ’s lips—but it wasn’t with anger, and it wasn’t with chagrin. God, she was blushing like a schoolgirl, and all because JJ told her she was proud of her; called her good and meant it. Admitting that to herself only made Yaz blush harder. 

Graciously, JJ’s eyes were shut tight enough that she wouldn’t notice (so long as she couldn’t feel Yaz’s skin sizzling like tarmac in a heatwave. Yaz was quite candidly surprised that the snow wasn’t melting in the air around them).

Stoking the fire further, JJ moaned quietly and nibbled on Yaz’s lip. She was holding Yaz as tight as she could get away with without hurting her. Obviously, she was in a certain kind of mood, but Yaz wasn’t about to complain—even though she’d usually rather be the one to push JJ up against a wall and make _her_ blush. It was a confusing role reversal, but not an unwelcome one. 

“Wait, where have the lovebirds got to?” they heard Jack ask from around the corner. 

Bill snorted. “Tenner says they ditched us for a sha—“

Somebody cleared their throat pointedly. Yaz thought it might have been River. 

Reluctantly, Yaz and JJ peeled away from one another’s lips and glanced back the way they came. The coast was clear for now, but Bill had an exasperating knack for hunting them down when they least wanted to be found, like a shark smelling blood in the water. 

“We should probably get back,” said Yaz, but she didn’t bother attempting to push JJ’s body off her. 

JJ’s voice was distant and distracted when she came back with a faraway, “Yeah. Probably.” She didn’t make a move to push away from Yaz either; too busy gazing thoughtfully at her. 

Yaz fidgeted between JJ and the wall. “Why are you watchin’ me like that?” 

“Sorry, I…” Trailing off, JJ cast her eyes towards the front garden and pursed her lips. “What I were tryna say before—look, my family’s everythin’ to me, Yasmin. They’re the most important thing in the whole universe. Nothin’ comes before ‘em. Not one thing. Not one person.”

“I know,” frowned Yaz. Her heart took a blow she pretended not to feel—why did JJ find it necessary to remind her that she meant less to her than her family? It was a given, wasn’t it? She didn’t need it spelled out for her. 

JJ’s focus returned to Yaz, and it did so heavily—not as if burdened, but as if packed to the brim with all her abundant love and an undying need to express it. 

“And you’re my family, too,” she finished.

Just like that, Yaz’s frown disintegrated. One day she’d learn not to doubt JJ so much. 

“Oh.”

“I really do consider you family, ladybird, and I just needed you to hear that. No matter what happens with your parents, you’ll always have the family you choose. You’ll always have us. Me. Forever and ever and ever. I’m sorry, ‘cause I know it’s a hollow comfort, and I don’t mean to suggest I could replace anyone in your life, but I also don’t ever want you thinkin’ you’re not needed or loved enough. It just isn’t true. It’d kill me to think I ever let you believe that it was.”

“Somehow, babe, I don’t think your love’s somethin’ you’d easily let me forget,” laughed Yaz, but the smile on her face didn’t linger when she saw the raw worry bleeding freely from JJ as if all she were was an open wound. 

“Yaz, please,” pleaded JJ, “I’m serious.”

“Why are you gettin’ all upset? What’s wrong?”

JJ looked torn about whether or not to speak up. In the end, she exhaled deeply and her shoulders went slack with surrender. “I just can’t stop thinkin’ about somethin’ you said when we spent the weekend at our cabin. You told me about what you almost did when things were bad for you back then, remember? And if things are gettin’ bad again now—“

“They’re not that bad.”

“Yeah, but—“

“They’re _not_ that bad, JJ. The difference between then and now is that, this time around, I’ve got people in my corner. I’ve got you. And I believe you when you love me. Sometimes it’s, like, impossible for me to believe in that, but not with you. Not anymore. And that’s more than enough to keep me afloat. Sure, there are gonna be times when I get low. There are gonna be times when I get sad and moody and you probably won’t understand why, but—frankly, babe—I feel pretty bloody unsinkable when I’ve got you. Whatever bad shit goes on in my head, it’s got nothin’ on all the good we’ve got. So please don’t worry about me. I’m okay. Honestly.”

JJ bit the inside of her cheek. “But how can you be? I remember what it’s like—needing a family that isn’t there for you—and it’s _not_ okay. It’s awful.”

“Babe,” heaved Yaz, “they’re not the same thing. To begin with, you were blameless in your situation. You were just a kid.”

“But it still hurts you, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. It does. But I probably deserve—“

“Don’t finish that sentence, Yaz. Don’t you ever,” JJ scolded. She wrapped her hands around Yaz’s upper arms and shook her head at her. “You absolutely don’t deserve to hurt. Nobody does. It’s thinkin’ like that that’ll keep you down.”

Yaz frowned down at her shoes. “But… Jamie, I’ve been a terrible daughter. A terrible sister. I left them all behind when things got bad and I never even looked back.”

“You sent them money. Helped them survive.”

“I wasn’t there for them, though. Not really.”

“They weren’t there for you.”

With a frustrated groan, Yaz thudded the back of her head against the wall and turned her eyes to the dark sky. Dainty flakes of snow melted upon her cheeks; they ran like rain or tears. “I just wish I had a time machine. Wish I could go back and undo all of this.”

“Um.” JJ shifted her weight. “All of it?”

Soft and doting, Yaz’s eyes fell upon her girlfriend. “Maybe not all of it, no,” she said, removing a glove, kissing two of her fingers, and then pressing them to JJ’s cheek. 

JJ leaned into Yaz’s touch with a timid smile. 

“You look so pretty right now,” Yaz uttered without thinking, lazily trailing her eyes across JJ from head to toe. 

In need of a smile, Yaz squeezed the bright red nose of JJ’s Rudolph sweater and felt her spirits lift just a little when music started to play—not because she liked the song, but because her girlfriend was wearing a Christmas jumper that played a merry tune and she loved her for it. She loved her for more. She loved her for less. She loved her and it helped, like it always did. 

JJ wrapped a hand around Yaz’s fingers, which were already growing numb with the cold, and squeezed gently. “How about we go and get warmed up, eh? I think a nice hot chocolate’s in order. Extra whipped cream and _tonnes_ of marshmallows. Ooh, I wonder if we have any Hundreds and Thousands knockin’ about.”

“Like you need any more sugar in your diet.”

“True,” JJ granted with a playful edge. “You give me all the sugar I need.”

Yaz faked a retch and JJ laughed, pulling her into her arms and rocking side to side with her. Curling her fingers into the back of JJ’s coat, Yaz pressed her smiling cheek to the collar of her jumper while the press of their bodies muffled the final notes of the song it played. 

“Merry Friday, Yasmin,” JJ mumbled against the top of her head. 

Yaz’s soundless laughter clouded in the air around them. 

“Merry Friday, babe.”

* * *

As it transpired, their walk around the gardens did very little to sober up Jack and Bill. Yaz thought for sure that Jack’s fall into the fountain would’ve done the trick. However, after he got dried off, he simply cracked open another bottle of something strong and sucked it close to dry. 

Likewise, Bill’s state only worsened when they warmed up again. She threw up in a cactus pot half an hour later and Jack tossed the whole thing in the bin to hide it from River and Arthur, feigning naïveté when they noticed its absence. When Jack and Bill teamed up in an effort to bully Nardole into his maid costume, Yaz and JJ swapped a resigned look and, without exchanging a word, rose from the sofa they’d been curled up on and stepped in before things could escalate further. 

JJ wrangled Jack while Yaz took care of Bill, yanking a ludicrously expensive bottle of wine—gifted to JJ by her parents—from her grabby hands and guiding her in the direction of her bedroom. 

“It’s not even late,” slurred Bill, stumbling her way through her bedroom door with Yaz’s hand on her back.

“Tell me about it, mate. How the hell did you get this smashed?”

Bill’s jacket pocket sloshed when she staggered towards her bed—all the answer Yaz needed. Rolling her eyes, she stopped Bill, frisked her, and confiscated a flask and three miniatures from her person. 

“Least buy me dinner first, babe,” Bill teased with eyes half open. 

“Come on. Sit down.” 

Yaz helped Bill to the bed and knelt down in front of her to untie her laces. Listing slightly from side to side, Bill hiccuped, and then the hiccup became a belch, and then she started sniggering to herself.

Yaz pulled a face. “If you need to chunder, let me know so I can remove myself from the line of fire.” She tugged one shoe off and moved on to the next. 

“Know what, Yaz, I remember when you used to out-party everyone,” Bill garbled, followed by another hiccup. “Always the last man standing. And you used to go _hard_. Remember that night after your first week at the club? You had all that cash and all you wanted to do was drink it and inhale it and— _hic_ —burn it. We went on a three day bender, didn’t we?”

“That were a long time ago.” Rising to her feet, Yaz helped Bill out of her jacket and draped it over the back of the desk chair. 

“We had fun back then.”

With her back to Bill, Yaz pocketed her hands and cast her eyes to the ground. She remembered thinking it was fun at the time, to spend every workless night getting blind drunk and crazy high; in retrospect, she realised she was only ever trying to numb all the hurt in whatever way she could. 

“But I have more fun with you now,” Bill continued, prompting Yaz to turn around. Bill was on her back with her legs hanging off the side of the bed and her arms spread wide. 

“You do?” 

“Mhm.” 

Bill lifted her head from the duvet just enough so that she could look Yaz in the eye. She patted the bed beside her. After a moment’s hesitation, Yaz lay down next to her and they both stared up at the ceiling. 

“You aren’t the Yaz I met back then anymore,” yawned Bill. “You’re, like, a proper adult now. Soon, you’re gonna have a big gaff and move in with your bird and start building this whole life together. It’s fucking mad. I used to think…”

Yaz turned her head when Bill clammed up. “Used to think what?”

Bill shrugged a shoulder. Her glazed eyes didn’t come down from the ceiling when she said, “I always used to think you were gonna die young. Used to think we both would. That we’d party too hard. Get caught up in some bullshit—or in our own heads—and that’d be it. We didn’t have much, did we? All we had was the fast life.”

“We had each other,” reckoned Yaz. “Still do.”

“Yeah, but… I feel like I’m still just a big kid. I dunno what I’m doing. I’m— _hic_ —I’m glad you’re growing up, don’t get me wrong, but part of me wishes you’d just stop, ‘cause I’m not there yet.”

Yaz searched Bill’s face but it was slack with inebriation and her lids were growing heavier and droopier with every passing moment. 

“Y’know, when JJ first asked me to design my dream home, one of the things I mentioned was a room for you. Well, I also suggested a tree house, but that were mostly a joke.” Yaz rolled onto her side to face Bill and rested her cheek on her palm. “I might be changing, Bill, but I’m not gonna outgrow my best mate. I’m not gonna forget that you were all I had at one point in my life. Besides, you’ve got loads of time to figure your shit out. Maybe take Arthur up on his offer. Sounds like it could be really good for you. And if not, well, me and JJ have always got a bed for you to crash on while you work it out. Sound good?”

“Depends,” drawled Bill. “Will the two of you be in the bed with me?”

“God, you’re a dick.”

Bill’s sleepy smile dwindled as her eyes fell shut. Blindly, she reached for Yaz’s hand and murmured, “She’s the best thing that could’ve happened to you.”

“Yeah,” agreed Yaz. 

“Except me.”

“Obviously.”

“...It’s gonna be alright, mate, isn’t it?”

“‘Course it is.”

“ _Yo_ _u’re_ gonna be alright.”

“As long as you are.”

“Guess we’ll have to just be alright together.”

“Works for me.”

“Me too.”

“Did you have a good Christmas, Bill?”

“Wicked. I think I have a real shot with River.”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.”

“She doesn’t strike me as the monogamous type.”

“You don’t strike me as her type.”

“I’m everyone’s type. Oh… should I call Amy?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Where’s my phone?”

“Somewhere you can’t reach it.”

“Yaz—“

“You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

Bill harrumphed but clearly lacked the energy to protest any further. Thirty seconds passed and Yaz started to think she’d drifted to sleep. She hadn’t.

“You know I love you, Yaz,” Bill mumbled. “Right?”

Yaz rolled onto her back. “I know.”

“And I do like treehouses.”

“I weren’t serious about the treehouse.”

“I might—“ Bill yawned again— “take you up on the bed though. Once in a… in a while.”

“Whenever you need.”

“...Do you still need me?”

“I’ll always need you, mate.”

“Good. ‘Cause I still need you.” Impending unconsciousness loosened Bill’s hold on Yaz’s hand and her head lolled to the other side. “Don’t… don’t remind me of this when I’m sober.”

“Oh, I definitely will.” 

“Twat…”

Yaz smiled. “I love you, too, Bill,” she said. “Really.” 

“I know you do. I’m pretty… pretty…. irresis….”

Seconds later, Bill was snoring at a solid seven on the Richter Scale. Yaz lifted her legs onto the bed, draped a shawl over her, and pulled a pillow under her head. Before turning the lights out, she hovered by her bedside and watched her snooze. 

“You bloody mess,” she chuckled under her breath. Then, only because Bill was out like a light, she kissed the top of her head and bid her sweet dreams. 

Yaz bumped into JJ in the lantern-lit hallway outside Bill’s room and held a finger to her lips until she’d softly closed the door behind her. They took a few steps away so that their voices wouldn’t rouse her—though it was unlikely that anything would now. 

“How’s Jack?” asked Yaz. 

“Jack’s Jack,” shrugged JJ. She glanced at Bill’s door. “What about Bill? She alright?”

“I think so. Hard to tell with that one.”

“Do you reckon she had a good Christmas?”

“I know she did. It’s hard, sometimes, watchin’ how down she gets at this time of year. This is the first year I haven’t properly worried about her.” Yaz looked over her shoulder and sighed. “Thanks for inviting her, babe. It means a lot.”

“Don’t even mention it, ladybird. Love her or hate her, she’s one of us.” 

“Yeah,” smiled Yaz, “she is.”

“Fancy comin’ down to say goodnight to mum and dad?” JJ offered her hand. “Feel kinda bad that we all just disappeared on ‘em.”

“You’d have felt worse if Bill had gotten the chance to hit on your mum,” Yaz argued. Still, she laced her fingers through JJ’s and they started down the hallway together. 

JJ scrunched up her nose. “Guess you didn’t hear her tell mum about the ‘mind-blowing hidden temple’ she ought to explore. Right in front of dad. I think he might have got mad if it weren’t such a terrible pickup line.”

“She’s gonna have such bad beer fear in the mornin’,” snorted Yaz. 

“Oh, she’s gonna feel some kinda fear, that’s for sure.”

Amused, Yaz bumped JJ’s shoulder with her own. “What you gonna do, Miss Smith? Gonna unleash your inner CEO and give her a strict tellin’ off?”

“Might do. Why?” JJ brushed her lips against the top of Yaz’s ear while they walked and whispered, “Turn you on, would it?”

If only Yaz could keep her goosebumps at bay through sheer force of will. 

“No.”

“Liar.”

Yaz was on the verge of slamming JJ up against the wall and making her eat her smug words when they heard River’s melodic laughter carrying towards them from nearby, accompanied by a slow, dreamy song. In silence, they followed the music all the way to the balcony overlooking the stairwell in the foyer—and then abruptly stopped. 

Right there, in front of the wide-open front door and the gleaming moon, were River and Arthur. Chest to chest and hand in hand, they glided across the marble. One of the vinyls JJ gifted them earlier spun dizzy circles on the retro record player sitting upon a wooden chest against the wall. It was an old song. Yaz didn’t know it, but it was beautiful. The whole scene was beautiful. 

River’s skirt swept across the moonlit floor and the soles of Arthur’s shoes might not have even touched the ground for how gracefully he moved. He muttered something in River’s ear and she laughed again. 

“Your parents are so in love,” Yaz whispered, so as not to disturb them. Unseen, she and JJ leaned against the balustrade and watched them dance. “Even after all this time.”

“Yeah. I know.” JJ’s face was steeped in adoration. She wound an arm around Yaz’s waist and smiled. “They’re, like, a miracle.”

“Give it a few years, that’s gonna be us.”

“You think?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Well, s’long as I don’t end up with dad’s hairline.”

“What the bloody hell is wrong with my hairline?” Arthur called up without breaking stride, alerting Yaz and JJ to their failed discretion. “River, what’s wrong with my hairline?”

“Nothing, sweetie. You’re very handsome. Pay them no mind.”

Huffing, Arthur gave River an expert twirl and glared at JJ as he drew her back in. JJ hunched her shoulders with an apologetic grimace. 

When Arthur’s back was turned, JJ elbowed Yaz’s ribs lightly. “Yaz?”

“Yeah?”

“Am I handsome?”

One look at JJ told Yaz her query was completely earnest. Yaz slipped her hand up the back of her jumper and kissed her cheek. “Extremely handsome, babe.”

If JJ was attempting to hide the giddy smile that followed, she was doing a miserable job.

The song drew to an end but, rather than keep dancing when the next one began to play, Arthur and River leaned into a brief kiss and then started up the stairs. They were still holding hands when they got to the top.

“Arthur and I are off to bed,” said River. “Are the two of you staying up?”

“Not for long.” JJ’s pupils darted, revelatory, towards the record player. Yaz was willing to wager they’d left it playing intentionally. 

“Alright. Just make sure to lock up when you’re done.”

“Will do. Can I get a hug before you go?” requested JJ, bouncing impatiently on the balls of her feet. 

Arthur and River shared a smile. They both took a synchronised step forward and swept JJ up into their arms, like they knew her well enough by now to have anticipated the request. JJ giggled and clung tight to them. Yaz stared at the floor. 

“Don’t think you’re getting off easy, either,” grunted Arthur. He opened one of his arms to Yaz. “If I have to, so do you. Come on.”

Yaz, at first, thought Arthur must have been talking to somebody else. A bemused glance over her shoulder revealed nothing but empty space; he was addressing her. JJ beamed at her and extended her own arm, and River beckoned her in, too. 

“Oh. Uh, okay. Yeah.”

Somewhat awkwardly, Yaz shuffled towards them. She was dragged in the rest of the way by Arthur and JJ and then, just like that, she was being embraced on all sides. Part of her wanted to run from their affection. Part of her wanted to drown in it. Yaz’s stiff limbs took a moment to loosen but, when they did, she hugged them just as tight as they hugged her and she let herself enjoy it. She was almost sorry when the time came to pull away. 

“Thanks for makin’ today so brilliant, guys,” JJ enthused. “Sorry about the rocky start.”

“You’ve nothing to apologise for, fox. Neither of you,” asserted River. Her eyes found Yaz. “Yaz, I hope you know that there’s always a seat at the table for you here. So long as you make our daughter happy, we’re happy to have you.”

“She makes me ecstatic, don’t you, ladybird?” grinned JJ, slinging an arm around Yaz’s shoulders. 

Yaz smiled shyly. “I try.”

“That’s enough for me,” said River.

“And me.” Arthur winked at Yaz.

Yaz wasn’t sure what she’d done to deserve their wholehearted acceptance, and it struck her then that she’d never even expected it—not from the moment JJ invited her to meet them—but there it was. Sure as their smiles. Sure as the look on River’s face whenever JJ sidled up to Yaz just to touch her; just to be as close to her as was physically possible. It was a look that said, I know that feeling. It was a look that said, I trust my daughter’s in good hands with you. She’d be right to think so, for Yaz’s hands had never been steadier than when they held JJ and the full weight of her heart. 

Arthur and River wished them both a good night and left for their room with their pinkies entwined. The moment they were out of sight, JJ cast a longing look down the stairwell. The door had been left open—an invitation to the cold, or an invitation for JJ and Yaz to bask, for a while, in the starry night. 

It was still as death out there. The snow was no longer falling, but it had laid out a pristine blanket which covered every inch of the ground. Its cold crystals glowed under stars and moon and winked at Yaz whenever she moved. 

JJ offered Yaz her arm. Understanding instantly, Yaz took it without a word and they descended the staircase together. Violins were wailing beneath the needle by the time they reached the foyer, which was chilly enough that they could see their breath like wisps of smoke. 

Worth it for the view.

Just as JJ stepped up to Yaz and placed a hand on her waist, Yaz spotted a bat swooping low across the garden past her shoulder. And another. The longer she looked, the more she noticed, each of them like acrobats on swings performing impressive gymnastics between the trees and above the fountain. They moved as if to the music. Seconds later, so did she. 

Yaz allowed JJ to lead her in a slow dance. Their soles squeaked intermittently against the marble and Yaz’s breath caught whenever JJ twirled her without warning, which she seemed to enjoy doing just to get a rise out of Yaz’s brows. The night was glacial, but JJ’s hand in hers was warm and soft. 

“What a year, eh?” JJ mused. Her voice was delicate enough that it hardly contended with the music. 

The song changed; a piece as haunting as it was romantic began to pour from the crackling speakers. Yaz thought of ghosts and wilting flowers and time. There would never be enough, would there? Never enough time to love JJ as long and as deep as she deserved. They could live a thousand lifetimes and it still wouldn’t do. There’d always be more to say, more ways to love; more kisses to steal; more smiles to cherish; more adventures to share; more songs to dance to. 

But they had now. 

And now was pretty good. 

JJ turned her face towards the moon and it doused her pale skin in a white shimmer; weaved threads of silver through her hair. “This time last year, I looked at that same moon from my bedroom window and wished I had somebody to enjoy it with. Somebody to kiss and hold and dance with beneath it. Not sure what it is about the moon that makes me so lonely.”

Yaz rested her chin on JJ’s shoulder while they moved. “I know what you mean,” she empathised. “I feel like the moon’s seen me cry more than anyone else.”

“Me, too.”

“But look at us now.”

“Yeah,” hummed JJ. “I’ve got everythin’ I ever wanted right here in my arms. To be honest, ladybird, it’s better than I ever imagined it.”

“What is?”

“Finding my soulmate.” JJ stepped back, whirled Yaz beneath her arm, and then pressed their dancing bones back together again. Shawled in moonlight and awe, JJ looked like a moment Yaz never wanted to pass. “We were meant to find each other, don’t you think? Me and you? I can’t think of any other way to explain how we fit so perfectly.”

Yaz stroked JJ’s hand with her thumb and smiled warmly at her. “You think it’s fate?”

“I really do. I reckon there’s a red string connectin’ both our hearts that’s gonna outlive this entire planet. When the apocalypse comes, and distant explorers happen upon our little rock long after everyone’s gone, the only thing they’re gonna find that isn’t dust and rubble is our bones sleeping side by side and the tether binding your soul to mine.”

“How come our bones won’t be dust and rubble like everyone else’s?”

“‘Cause our love’s gonna keep ‘em strong and healthy.”

“And here I thought plenty of milk would do the job.”

“That, too. Milk and love, Yasmin—the recipe for immortality. Mark my words.”

“Thought about this a lot, have you?”

“When I look at you, forever’s the only thing I can think about.”

“You’re such a romantic.”

“What can I say?”

Yaz laughed softly. JJ leaned in and, for a second, Yaz thought she was about to kiss her. Instead, she cradled the back of her head and dipped her. Yaz left her heart in the air when JJ lowered her right into a slice of moonlight, blonde hair tickling her cheeks and strong arm supporting her lower back. JJ’s eyes travelled from Yaz’s body, to her neck, to her mouth, to her eyes. There, they settled; built a home. 

“Yasmin Khan,” she crooned. “All mine.”

“All yours.”

“Forever?”

Yaz’s gaze hiccuped over a loose thread in the shoulder of JJ’s jumper. She wrapped it around her little finger and pulled, that a red string should be connecting them when she vowed, “Forever.”

JJ looked at the string, and then she kissed Yaz. She kissed her gently—a falling petal landing on a pond. Yaz wanted the whole flower, the whole garden; an entire eden on her tongue. She wanted to wrap her fingers around JJ’s roots and plant herself in her soil. She wanted to be the sunlight JJ basked in. The rain she thrived in. The bright colour staining her blossoms and the perfume clinging to her skin. She wanted to be both her impossibly soft touch and her deadly-sharp thorns. Yaz wanted, more than anything, to be so inextricably laced with JJ that none would ever be able to tell where one ended and the other began. 

She didn’t know how to voice any of this, so all she said was, “Jamie.”

But JJ understood. Of course she did. 

They were soulmates, after all. 

“Bed?” asked JJ.

“Bed,” said Yaz. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> due to my poor planning skills part of the next chap is also gonna be takin place over christmas even tho i wanted to have it all done by now but! there'll also probs be a bit of a time skip after that bc i've been writing this bit for too goddamn long now and christmas is over i'm getting sick of it lmao


	16. use me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mostly just smut lol

Manor locked, lights out; doors and windows shut tight; heavy footfall bounding up the stairs. JJ took them two at a time in a race to join Yaz in the bedroom. Yes, Yaz had told her not to rush, but this was JJ. She wasn’t about to keep the prettiest woman alive waiting a second longer than was necessary. 

Jittery and excited as ever, JJ considered her reflection in a mirror she passed in the hallway. She smoothed down her hair, changed her mind and ruffled it again, checked her breath, and then winked at herself. 

_Go get her, tiger._

She knocked gently on the bedroom door. “Yaz?” 

“Babe, you don’t need to knock on your own door,” Yaz called in response.

“Just bein’ polite!”

Upon entering the room, an animated glow swathed JJ from head to toe in sunset orange. Yaz had lit every candle in the room; was just sparking up the last wick—with half a candy cane hanging from her mouth—when JJ closed the door behind her. The firelight licked at the yellow walls and made the starry night mural overhead glint and swirl like it was real. 

“Woah.” JJ pulled her sweater off over her head and tossed it onto the nearby chair, leaving her in a plain tee and trousers. “Lookin’ good. Nice and romantic.”

“Only missin’ a scatterin’ of rose petals on the sheets,” quipped Yaz. She set down the lighter and held her hand out for JJ, who took it without pause. 

“I can go down to the garden and pick some flowers, if y’like.”

“Another time,” said Yaz. She slid the candy cane out of her mouth and JJ found herself wishing she’d put it in hers. 

“Good,” JJ muttered. “I don’t think I can wait anymore.”

“Wait for what?”

“For… for… wait, did I get the wrong idea? Do you not wanna have sex? I mean, that’s fine. I _can_ wait. I just thought—“

Delicate as a snowflake landing on the tip of JJ’s tongue, Yaz kissed her. Melted in her mouth. JJ’s eyelids drooped slowly closed and her chilly hands found Yaz’s warm face. 

The myriad flavours of Yaz stoked at the winter bonfire in JJ’s gut: the peppermint freshness of candy canes, the full bodied depth of JJ’s favourite scotch, the saccharine tartness of Yaz’s cranberry lip balm—a fresh coat, by the feel of it. It stuck to JJ’s lips and tainted them a subtle shade of red. 

“Yaz,” JJ sighed, flitting her tongue across Yaz’s lips and humming. “You taste like Christmas.”

Tugging JJ towards the bed, Yaz kissed her throat with her open mouth and murmured, “Better unwrap me then, babe.”

Yaz’s legs hit the foot of the bed and they stumbled backwards onto it. Normally, JJ would never refuse a request so electrifying—but the wording of it prompted her eyes to snap open and she drew her head back with a finger in the air. 

“Oh, you just reminded me! Your present!”

“Yeah, we can do presents later,” dismissed Yaz. Impatient, she cupped JJ’s neck and pulled her back down for a kiss. 

JJ hated to do it (and it did take her a while) but, with a rueful wince, she proceeded to break away from Yaz for a second time. “Actually, uh, I really wanna do it now, if that’s okay. It won’t take long, there’s just—it’s kind of—oh, you’ll see.”

“Are you serious?”

“Don’t move!” 

Leaving Yaz to thud her head against the sheets with a groan, JJ scrambled eagerly from the bed and kneeled in front of the chest of drawers. From underneath a neatly folded pile of jumpers, she retrieved a soft present wrapped in gold foil, straightening out the slightly crushed bow on top before rising to her feet. 

When she looked back, Yaz was leaning off the bed and digging around in the bedside cabinet. 

“Lookin’ for?” wondered JJ.

“This.” Yaz’s hand closed around a small box she’d tucked out of sight at the back of the cabinet, parcelled with care in festive wrapping paper. She glanced at JJ, the sudden stillness of her, and rolled her eyes. “Don’t get any ideas. It’s not a ring.”

JJ released a nervous chuckle; tucked her disappointment out of sight. 

The mattress dipped when she sat down beside Yaz at the edge of the bed, anxiously fidgeting with a loose fold of foil at the corner of the gift she’d yet to give. 

“You first,” offered Yaz. She passed her present to JJ and, once her hands were free, she slipped them under her thighs as if to keep from wringing them. “Kinda hard to think of a gift for someone who can buy literally anythin’ they want, but…”

“Everythin’ I want is already sittin’ right next to me, Yasmin,” smiled JJ. 

She kissed Yaz’s cheek, and then carefully set about peeling back the paper. Now that it was in her hands, it was obvious to JJ that it was never going to have been a ring. The box was much heavier and a margin too large. 

When the velvety, midnight-blue casing gave nothing away, JJ gave up trying to guess and clicked open the silver clasp on the front. 

She lifted the lid. 

Her brows floated up and up. 

“Oh, ladybird…” 

Sitting on a black cushion within the box was an expensive-looking pocket watch. Its gold surface had been delicately engraved with a unique, concentric pattern—bisected, in parts, by severe lines and swooping arcs. Awed, JJ brushed her thumb over it. She’d never seen anything like it before. 

“One of a kind, apparently,” revealed Yaz. She was sporting the familiar expression of somebody apprehensively awaiting a reaction. “Made by a little watch shop in Ireland that’s been in business basically since watches were invented. This were actually one of the oldest ones they had that’s still in perfect workin’ condition. They didn’t wanna part with it, to begin with, but I can drive a pretty hard bargain when I wanna.”

Slipping her hand beneath the timepiece, JJ lifted it from the cushion and felt its solid weight on her palm. The watch, clearly antique but a far cry more impressive for it, glinted in the candlelight. 

Beside her, Yaz chewed her lip. “Open it.”

JJ obliged. 

Upon pressing a small button at the top of the artefact, the lid popped open. More concentric embellishments had been intricately layered beneath a pristine glass face, giving the appearance that one was looking inside the mechanical inner workings of the watch whenever they checked the time. Roman numerals marked the numbers on the clock, and a gold hand counted every passing second. None of this was what stole JJ’s instant attention. 

There was an engraving on the inside of the lid. 

Turning the pocket watch around to get a better look, JJ squinted at the elegant script—regretting that her glasses weren’t on hand—and uttered the words out loud as she read them. 

Beneath the Roman numerals that marked the date they first met (the very same engraving on Yaz’s ladybird pendant), were four words. 

“More time with you,” read JJ. 

There was also a small ladybird scored beneath the etching, which made JJ’s heart do all sorts of funny things. 

She looked at Yaz.

“Yeah, it’s—I mean, I know it’s probably dumb to engrave an antique but, y’know, who gives a shit? I just thought it’d be a reminder you could carry with you. A promise. My time’s worth nothin’ when I’m not spendin’ it with you, babe, so I’m gonna give it to you. I guess that’s the actual present. All my minutes, days, years—they’re yours. Every last one. So, if we’re ever apart and you start gettin’ all upset like you always do, you can just open up your watch and read my promise again. I hope it helps.”

“A promise I can keep in my pocket,” mumbled JJ. The tightening muscles of her throat constricted her thick voice. She swallowed. 

“And I won’t break it,” vowed Yaz. “No matter what.”

JJ closed the pocket watch, set it down atop its cushion, and placed the box on the nightstand—all with incredible care. Once it was a safe distance away, JJ picked up Yaz’s hands and faced her true. 

“Your time, Yasmin Khan, is priceless—whether I’m spendin’ it with you or not,” she insisted. “With that in mind, thank you for choosin’ to offer it to me. It’s not a gesture I take lightly, and I don’t intend to waste a single moment of it. You best believe that watch is gonna be my constant companion whenever I’m not with you, even if only so I can use it to count down the seconds ‘til I get to see you again. ‘Til I get to do this again.”

Smoothing her thumb across Yaz’s knuckles, JJ contemplated Yaz’s full lips a half second before she leaned in slow to kiss them. 

Forever itself fell from Yaz’s tongue and JJ caught it between her teeth before it could run. 

Yaz’s grasp on JJ’s hands loosened; the bones of her fingers might well have turned to silk in the wake of her relief. JJ didn’t understand her apprehension to begin with—as if she’d ever turn down a heartbeat of Yaz’s time, as if she hadn’t long ago imprinted the blueprint of their joined future onto the backs of her eyelids; as if she didn’t intend, one day, to die in Yaz’s arms.

JJ curled her fingers into the back of Yaz’s satiny tresses and thought about minutes and days and years, and how many kisses they could share in that time. 

A finite number.

They’d just have to make each one count. 

Famous last words—the second Yaz began to slide her hand up JJ’s thigh, JJ sprang back as if she’d just touched an electric fence. 

“Wait, you’ve still not got your present!”

Eyes closed with frustration, Yaz dropped her forehead to JJ’s shoulder and sighed heavily. “This better be good.”

“Actually, I feel kinda silly about it now,” confessed JJ, picking it up and frowning down at it. “I mean, your present were dead thoughtful and sweet and mine’s… well. It’s not really that.”

Yaz lifted her head and cocked a brow. “Now I’m intrigued.”

“I dunno. Maybe I should get you somethin’ el—“

“Too late.” Yaz snatched the present out of JJ’s hands and set about tearing the foil apart. 

“Yaz!”

JJ surged forwards and attempted to steal it back, but Yaz only laughed and wriggled away from her, turning her back and shaking off JJ’s clawing just long enough to completely unravel the gift and hold it up to the light. 

They both went still. 

The fob watch on the nightstand marked the slow passage of time. 

By no means was it uncommon for JJ to purchase lingerie for Yaz. In point of fact, it was one of her favourite things to buy for her. There was just something about watching Yaz flaunt the deliciously provocative garments JJ had paid for out of her own pocket; something about the places those garments hugged and touched, and how she knew Yaz would always think of JJ when she slipped into them. 

Aside from a little extra flair, this three-piece wasn’t too different from JJ’s usual purchases: the royal purple bra and corset were embellished with black lace—floral and elaborate, just like the stockings—and miniature pink bows ornamented the trims and silk garters. 

But there was one glaring disparity between this gift and all preceding it. 

The thong was crotchless. 

Cell by cell, Yaz’s puzzled expression capitulated to what could only be described as infernal delight. 

“Look, you don’t have to wear ‘em,” blurted JJ. “I just thought—well, I thought—all right, truth be told, I don’t really wanna say what I were thinkin’ about when I bought these. They just reminded me of this outfit I saw you wearin’ one time at the club and… I couldn’t help myself.”

“Stockings, garters, _and_ no crotch?” Amused, Yaz lowered the lingerie to her lap and smirked at JJ’s florid face. “Is this a present for me or a present for you?”

JJ bit the inside of her cheek. “Too much? Knew I shoulda just went with the perfume. Or a plane ticket. Or a plane. Ooh, I can buy you a plane, if y’like. Maybe you’d prefer a boat? A sports car?”

“Wanna know what I really want, babe?” Draping the lingerie over her arm, Yaz got to her feet and stood between JJ’s legs. She skimmed the curve of JJ’s face with her fingers, massaged the lobe of her ear, and bent down to whisper, “I want you to get down to your underwear, put on some music, and wait in bed while I go put this on for you. Okay?”

Spluttering on thin air, JJ failed to find her voice.

“And while you wait,” Yaz went on, “think about me, in this, and how hot it’s gonna be when I let you fuck me in it.”

“Yasmin,” trembled JJ. 

“Won’t be long, babe.”

She cupped JJ’s chin and lifted it as if to kiss her—but then didn’t. Gleaming impishly, Yaz ruffled JJ’s hair and withdrew. JJ stared at her back until the bathroom door closed behind her. 

The moment it did, she bolted to her feet. 

Tearing the shirt from her back and launching it across the room, JJ set about unbuckling her belt whilst she searched for the speaker she _knew_ was around here somewhere. In her haste, she forgot to remove her shoes before attempting to drag her trousers off, so one of the legs got stuck. Hobbling on one foot, JJ attempted to yank it free. 

She ended up falling on her face.

“That hurt,” she muttered—a tangle of limbs in a state of near undress. Rolling onto her back, she rubbed her head and scowled at the trousers wrapped around her ankles. 

“Babe?” called Yaz. “You all right in there?”

JJ jolted upright. “Oh, brilliant!” she blagged, not bothering to untie her laces before impatiently pulling off her shoes with a laboured grunt and tossing them over her shoulders, displaying a reckless lack of forethought. “I’m just, y’know, thinkin’ about you. Like always.” 

Her second shoe collided with something on the desk at her back. There followed a sound like a marble rolling across wood, and then a bright flash of orange light that didn’t go away. In fact, it seemed to be getting brighter. And hotter. 

Gulping, JJ turned around. 

The curtains were on fire. 

Evidently, her shoe had knocked a candle on its side. The candle, still lit, had then rolled to the back of the desk—where the drapes were hanging.

“Oh, shit.”

Clambering to her feet, JJ raced across the room and chucked a cold brew left sitting on the desk at the fire. Her efforts dampened the flames without extinguishing them. JJ swore again. Swivelling in rapid circles, she scanned her surroundings and considered the tools at her disposal: cactus, journal, shoe, book, cactus, chair, another shoe, another cactus. 

“Why so many bloody cacti?” hissed JJ. “Wait—“

Rewind.

Chair.

“Chair!” 

JJ hopped onto the chair and, doing her best to keep her arms a safe distance from the bright yellow tongues of the growing fire, tore the curtain down by the pole. The drapes landed on the wooden floor, mercifully cushioning the blow of the pole and preventing too obvious a racket, and then JJ hauled the weighted blanket from the end of the bed and smothered the fire until it died. 

Chest heaving, JJ wiped the sweat from her brow and straightened up. She regarded the charred heap with a nod. “Shoulda been a fireman.”

But her work wasn’t finished. 

Upon dragging the ruined drapes and blanket into the closet to hide the evidence, she spotted her speaker sitting on a shelf within, set it down on the dresser, and queued up one of Yaz’s playlists. 

No sooner had JJ slumped back onto the bed in her pale blue penguin boxers and sports bra than Yaz opened the bathroom door. 

“Babe, what the bloody hell have you been doin’ in here?” she demanded, sweeping her narrow eyes across the room with her hands on her hips. “And what’s happened to the curtains? God, it _reeks_ of smoke. JJ, tell me you didn’t—“

Yaz kept talking but JJ couldn’t hear a word. 

Slack-jawed and gormless, she tuned out everything except the deific picture Yaz made in her brand new lingerie. 

Yaz’s lips were moving, and sound was probably coming out, and she was pointing at the char marks on the floor, and JJ’s mouth was watering. Just as she’d anticipated—no, better than—Yaz filled out the three-piece as if it had been designed with none other than her in mind. 

The bra supported her cleavage in such a way that the valley between her full breasts was narrow and deep and enchanting; JJ shamelessly entertained a vision of running her tongue through it. Closely hugged by the lace of her corset, Yaz’s curves begged to be admired, to be felt; to be moulded against JJ’s body. Her stockinged legs were a wonder in their own right. Toned and strong, their true place was wrapped around JJ’s shoulders or riding the curl of her fingers. Presently, those fingers twitched for her. 

Above it all, and looking JJ right in the eye, was the gap in her sheer thong. 

Specifically, the treasure it laid bare. 

“...and you haven’t even been listenin’ to a word I’ve said, have you?” Yaz accused when she caught JJ gawping. 

“Yasmin,” breathed JJ, “you look absolutely ravishing.”

Anger waning, Yaz lifted her eyes to the ceiling and shook her head. “You’re incredible.”

“Thanks.”

“Didn’t mean it like that.”

“Well, I choose to take it like that.” 

Sliding off the bed, JJ cupped Yaz’s elbows in her hands and dizzied herself on the close-up sight of her. What a feeling—to know with total certainty that not only did perfection exist, but that it was hers. Not to possess or to own, but to kiss and to hold, to wake up next to and to fall asleep with; to make laugh and whose tears to catch, to touch and to fuck. 

Breathing heavily already, JJ grazed a finger up along the length of Yaz’s upper arm, let it slide down the strap of her bra, and traced the lacy trim. Her fingertips brushed a pink bow in the centre and she smiled.

“Merry Christmas to me.” 

Whilst a rousing R&B song decanted beat by bassy beat from the speaker, JJ placed her hands on Yaz’s hips and turned her around. Somebody was singing about drugs and sex and euphoria; Yaz was the living embodiment of all three for JJ. 

She pressed into Yaz’s back and ran her hands up her sides, going over every floral frill of her corset with the tips of her fingers on her gradual journey to Yaz’s bra. JJ peppered balmy kisses along her shoulder, towards her neck, and Yaz’s body melded against her like it was always meant to do. It was uncanny how well they fit. 

“Y’know,” Yaz started just as JJ’s hands slid across the front of her breasts and gently squeezed, “I have a whole routine to this song.”

JJ’s handsy exploration grinded to a halt. “You do?”

“Yeah.” Yaz shrugged airily. “Shame I gave up dancin’.”

“Well, I mean, you gave up dancin’ in a _club_ ,” corrected JJ. “Doesn’t mean that, y’know, you can’t ever dance again. In private. For someone who loves you. A lot.”

“Thing is…” Yaz turned around; walked her fingers up JJ’s chest. “I’ve nothin’ to dance around. No pole.”

“I’ll be your pole.”

“I’m not sure you’re strong enough, babe.”

“I’m strong enough,” asserted JJ. “Use me.”

Yaz cocked a thick brow. JJ probably should have felt embarrassed about how desperate she undoubtedly came off, and she very well might have done—had she been afforded enough time. 

Before JJ’s cheeks could even think to redden, Yaz hooked her fingers around the waistband of her boxers and jerked her close.

“Usually,” she sang, eyeing JJ’s body from head to toe, “I’d do it like this.”

Leaving just enough time for JJ to plant her feet, Yaz draped her arms around her neck and hoisted herself onto her ribs, legs curled around her back and chest level with JJ’s equally round eyes. Yaz rutted against JJ and the bow of her bra tickled the tip of her nose. 

“Oh…” said JJ, rendered dumb and delirious. 

“And then I’d go like this.”

Yaz surrendered her grasp on JJ. She reclined backwards, until the only thing keeping her from succumbing to gravity were the powerful thighs squeezing JJ’s bones and JJ’s hands at her back. Her dark hair tickled the floor and her hands roamed the splendour of her own body without any discernible purpose except to work JJ up. She’d achieved her desired effect. 

JJ couldn’t decide where to look for the life of her. Should she be looking at Yaz’s hands, which kneaded her own breasts and pinched her nipples over the fabric of her bra? Should she be looking down, between her thighs, at where Yaz’s crotch rubbed against the band of her bra? Should she be looking into Yaz’s eyes? 

They were looking into hers, at any rate, and oozing with perversity. 

Hankering terribly for a kiss, JJ took Yaz’s hands and pulled her upright. She almost got her wish, too, but Yaz pushed off her right at the last second and left JJ wanting. Like old times. 

“And if there’s someone in the crowd—” Yaz carried on, backing JJ towards the bed— “someone who looks like an easy target, who looks like they’ve got a lot of money to burn, who looks at me as if they’re in love with me when they don’t even know my last name…”

Yaz shoved JJ onto the bed. 

“I’ll rinse ‘em for everythin’ they’ve got, and this is how I’ll do it.”

Anticipating Yaz’s next move, JJ scrambled further up until her back hit the headboard. Yaz crawled on top of her, creeping and predator-like. 

Maybe the song was fading, maybe time was slowing down, maybe Yaz was smirking at her in slow motion—or maybe JJ’s senses were swimming away from her. She floundered to maintain her hold on them but, bewitched as she was, there was no breaking the spell she was under; no keeping the tide at bay when it came to wash away her clarity. 

And so JJ lost herself in Yaz. 

She hoped never to be found. 

Knees buried into the soft sheets at either side of JJ’s thighs, Yaz let the music drive her hips, her chest; the swivel of her long neck and the arch of her flexible spine. JJ revered the expression she wore—sultry, yes, but also oddly serene. Her heady eyes were half closed and content tugged at her lips. 

When she looked upon her like that, there was no doubt in JJ’s mind. 

Yaz would always be a dancer.

She had an innate fluidity; an intrinsic understanding of rhythm and beat. She had confidence and she had soul, and she had the blood of a dancer, too. Impassioned. Driven. Scalding hot. JJ might have liked to drink it straight from the molten source. 

She might have liked to burn. 

Yaz ran her fingers through JJ’s hair and breathed loud against her neck, surfing her lap like someone well-versed with the water. 

JJ grunted when Yaz pinned her to the headboard by her throat. She didn’t clamp down, merely held JJ in place so that she could string wet kisses along her chin and jaw. 

So tranced was she by such an indulgent, nostalgic display, JJ hadn’t yet thought to do a thing with her hands. 

“Can I touch you?” she pleaded. 

“No,” said Yaz. 

She tugged with intent on the bottom of JJ’s sports bra, peeling it up off her body when JJ obligingly lifted her arms. The moment the article was disposed of, Yaz ran the flat of her tongue up JJ’s neck and scratched her clipped nails lightly along a hard, pink nipple. 

JJ dug her own nails into her palms. “Yasmin, please…”

“Can’t touch the dancers without their permission, babe,” purred Yaz, rocking against JJ’s stomach and agonising her further when her crotch slid along the top of her thigh. JJ’s pale skin shone with slick in its wake and she groaned. 

“What about a kiss? On the mouth?” entreated JJ. “Don’t even have to use tongue. Just lemme taste you a little bit.”

“But I love usin’ my tongue.”

“Oh. Okay, well, grea— _oh_.”

Yaz closed her mouth around one of JJ’s breasts, holding eye contact with her as she flitted her tongue back and forth across the hard bud. Unthinking, JJ put her hands on Yaz’s thighs—pulse hiccuping when her palms grazed the fine lace of her stockings—so Yaz’s teeth came out to play. She pinched JJ’s nipple between them and JJ whipped her hands back with a stumbling apology. 

Yaz’s teeth went away. 

She rewarded JJ’s obedience with a proper kiss. 

Thumb pressed to JJ’s cheekbones, Yaz kissed her wet, kissed her greedy; kissed her and moaned. She grinded against JJ’s leg, aware—in all likelihood—that every atom of JJ’s body would be urging to reach down between them and give her something better to mount than her thigh. 

But she couldn’t touch her. That was the rule—no touching Yaz without permission. 

She hadn’t said _anything_ about touching herself. 

Eyes closed to their far-beyond-unvirginal kiss, Yaz couldn’t see JJ’s hand inching towards her boxers. She didn’t notice the pale fingers slipping past her waistband and creeping further south until they found home. She didn’t even react when JJ gasped, but that was nothing new. JJ did that a lot when Yaz kissed her so bruisingly. 

Her stomach pretzeled at the fear and thrill of getting caught, but JJ just couldn’t help herself. It was painful how much Yaz turned her on. The evidence of that coated her fingers, which she gently stroked herself with as discreetly as she could manage. 

JJ was velvety to the touch and tropically warm. Overwhelmed by the liquid silk at her fingers and the silk of Yaz’s tongue, her hips spasmed and she pushed deeper into her own hand. 

Their kiss wavered and it looked like Yaz might be about to retreat, so JJ took a bold risk to keep from being discovered. She curled a hand into Yaz’s hair, lightly encouraged the backwards tilt of her head, and went in for her open neck. JJ hit Yaz right where it hurt, too: the area of her throat most receptive to ardent kisses and nipping teeth. 

“Oh, you sneak,” sighed Yaz. 

She had no idea. 

Rumbling against Yaz’s skin, JJ quickened the fingers inside her boxers and held Yaz tight but careful by her locks. She sucked hard enough at the junction of Yaz’s shoulder to leave a bright red mark. Yaz didn’t stop her.

There was a faster song playing now—dark and dangerous; a needle injecting depravity right into JJ’s veins. It coursed through her body like an oil spill catching flame. Magnificent. Inextinguishable. Devastating. The sounds coming out of JJ’s mouth became increasingly gruff, and as raw as the passion consuming her. 

Yaz bit down on the tip of her ear and JJ wanted to come. She was going to come—in secret, right under Yaz’s nose, with her buttery skin pinched between her teeth and her brown arms wrapped around her neck and her body moving against her like sex was nothing but a dance. 

And that would have been perfectly all right with JJ. 

Had Yaz not then thrusted her pelvis right into the knuckles tenting her boxers. 

JJ’s eyes snapped open and she stilled her hand, stilled her mouth; failed to still her explosive heart. Likewise, Yaz had stopped moving. 

A moment passed. 

JJ hid her face in Yaz’s neck and Yaz did nothing but breathe, steadily, right above her ear. Music pumped between them, thick as their hot-blooded tension, and the firelight dancing across Yaz’s skin may very well have been raging from within her. Was she angry? Was she disappointed? Was she going to get up and walk away? JJ couldn’t tell. She still hadn’t looked up. 

And she didn’t.

Not until Yaz disjoined from JJ’s body and looked down. JJ’s treacherous hand was still tucked into her boxers; two fingers still on the pulse. 

Yaz furrowed her brow. She looked confused—perplexed—like JJ’s hand was a total enigma to her.

“...Yasmin?”

“How long has that been there?” Yaz’s tone was inscrutable. 

“Um.” JJ flexed her fingers. “A while.”

Shock seized Yaz’s features. Her pupils ricocheted between both of JJ’s eyes; a bullet bouncing from wall to wall. 

“I told you—“

“You told me not to touch you,” JJ was hasty to point out. “Never said owt about touchin’ myself. I didn’t break your rules. Technically. Right?”

Yaz raised her eyebrows. Not happy. Definitely not happy. 

“How close were you just now?”

JJ shrugged. “Fairly close.” Did she want to provoke her further? Did she want to back down? JJ glanced between her thighs. “Y’know, if you wanna avoid these kinds of miscommunications, you really should be a little clearer.”

“Excuse me?”

And then JJ did the unthinkable. 

She started to touch herself again. 

“Oh,” she moaned, resting her head against the headboard. “Baby, you really should feel this. I’m drenched.”

Yaz rocked back, wide-eyed and reeling at JJ’s audacity. 

“Don’t,” she husked, but she couldn’t look away from the hand writhing beneath JJ’s underwear, and the fury was evaporating from her face measure by measure. Her chest began to rise and fall at a brisker pace. 

“Why?” challenged JJ. “It’s for you, Yaz. It’s all for you. I mean, look at yourself…”

JJ’s free hand curled around Yaz’s waist, around the expensive material of her corset, and she squeezed her hip. Bewildered, Yaz did nothing but watch. She did nothing but watch when JJ’s fingers climbed her ribs, she did nothing but watch when they hooked around the top of her bra, and she did nothing but watch—and gasp just a little—when JJ tugged the cup down, licked her lips, and closed them around her nipple. 

“Fuck,” Yaz grunted.

Rather than pull away, she arched deeper into JJ’s mouth and threaded her fingers through her hair. 

“You’re drivin’ me crazy, ladybird,” JJ mumbled against Yaz’s breast, teething her dark bud to bloom between her lips. 

“And you’re gettin’ cheeky in your old age, babe.”

Yaz’s nipple hardened against JJ’s tongue; a fresh stream of arousal babbled at her fingertips. 

“That feel good, does it?” asked Yaz. “Fuckin’ yourself like that?”

“Mhm.” JJ detached from Yaz’s breast with a wet smack and gazed up at her. Her whole body twitched at the self-inflicted sensations between her thighs. “It feels amazin’, actually. Feels like—“

Yaz yanked JJ’s hand out of her boxers, climbed off her legs, and dragged her down the bed by her ankles until she was lying flat on her back. 

JJ’s surprise hadn’t yet subsided by the time Yaz was on top of her again. 

“The only touch you get to call amazin’,” said Yaz, taking JJ’s hand, sliding her tongue along her sticky middle finger, and growing dark in eyes and register, “is mine. Understand?”

“Yeah. Yes, totally. Loud and clear.” 

So much for being bold. 

“Now, do you really wanna keep touchin’ yourself,” posed Yaz, teasing her fingers along the hem of JJ’s boxers, “or do you want me to make you come instead? ‘Cause if you can do it better then, by all means, take it away. And you can get yourself off every time after that, too. Since you’re so _amazin’_ and all.”

“I lied. I lied, Yasmin. It weren’t that good. Honestly. The best thing about it was that you were on top of me. I’m sorry. Obviously I want you.”

“Obviously,” Yaz drawled. “I just wanted to make you say it.”

JJ pouted. “Does that mean you’re not gonna touch me?”

“I dunno…”

“I really didn’t mean to upset you, ladybird.”

Yaz mulled over JJ’s jutting lower lip; her Bambi eyes and upturned brows. The way she softened wasn’t obvious—muscles scarcely relaxing, harsh features smoothing only just—but JJ knew Yaz oh-so-well. 

It was funny; once upon a time, Yaz would have laughed JJ out of the room for trying to appeal to her kinder nature. These days, a kinder nature seemed like all JJ ever saw in her. All Yaz had to offer her. Forbearance. 

“I’m not really upset, babe,” assured Yaz. She stroked JJ’s eyebrow and admired her for a beat. “I’m just teasin’ you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” JJ halted; grinned. “Just wanted to make you say it.”

Yaz’s following laugh was a frowny, baffled thing. “God, Jamie, you can't just…”

“Just what?”

“You can’t just wind me up like that.”

“Wanna bet?” JJ bent her knee and smothered Yaz’s crotch with her thigh. An arch smile played across her lips—Yaz was still damp. 

“Easy, tiger. I’m not done with you yet.” 

Kneeling back, Yaz curled her fingers around JJ’s boxers and peeled them from her legs. She made slow work of it; JJ thought she seemed a tad distracted by the glistening, bright pink apex of her thighs (and was briefly tempted to give her another show, but thought better of it in the end). 

“You’re so bloody pretty,” Yaz muttered, as though it angered her. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No, it just frustrates me, ‘cause you never believe me no matter how much I tell you.”

Rather than straddle JJ again once her boxers were out of the picture, Yaz lay between her legs and spread them far apart. She pressed a chaste kiss between JJ’s pelvic bones, and then rested her chin there while she scanned her face. 

“Do you think you’re pretty, JJ?” Yaz wondered. The question sounded authentic. 

JJ bit the inside of her cheek and made a noncommittal noise. 

“That’s not an answer.”

“Does it matter?”

“To me? Yes.”

Yaz’s face was so sincere, so intently captivating JJ’s focus, that JJ yelped with shock when she felt a finger slide inside her. Yaz continued to squeeze her finger into the gully of her, as did she continue their conversation as if nothing were happening. 

“If you could see yourself the way I see you right now, I don’t think you’d even recognise yourself, would you?”

“Yaz,” whined JJ, grasping at the sheets at either side of her when a second finger followed the first. 

Pumping her fingers steady and deep inside her, Yaz tilted her head and watched the natural reactions of JJ’s face and body with an almost clinical curiosity. 

“Nah,” Yaz sighed wistfully, “you definitely wouldn’t recognise yourself through my eyes.”

Fast enough to have been construed as a figment of JJ’s overactive imagination, Yaz flicked her tongue across her clit. JJ’s body responded more out of surprise than sensation. 

“‘Cause when you look in the mirror,” Yaz went on, “you see—what? What do you see?”

Struggling to keep up with what Yaz was saying, JJ shook her head. “I—I dunno.” 

Yaz licked her again, a little slower this time. 

JJ’s stomach tensed and she clenched desperately around Yaz’s fingers. “Yaz, please.”

“Answer the question.”

“Christ, I don’t know,” mewled JJ. Yaz wasn’t helping matters by picking up the pace of her fingers. “I guess—I guess I just see— _f_ _uck_. Do we have to do this now?”

“No time like the present.”

The heel of Yaz’s palm slammed against JJ’s clit with every thrust of her fingers. She lightly bit the inside of JJ’s thigh, then kissed the same spot with her open mouth. Through it all, JJ was struggling to understand why any of what she was saying mattered in the least. There were far more urgent matters at hand than JJ’s reflection. 

Still, Yaz reminded her, with another lazy lick between her thighs, that she’d be getting nothing more than that until she obliged. 

“Babe,” sang Yaz. 

“I just see me, Yaz!” JJ blurted. She huffed her frustration when Yaz’s fingers slowed upon her exclamation. “When I look in the mirror, I just see someone average. Not too ugly; not especially attractive. Unremarkable. No one you’d look twice at. And that’s fine. That’s absolutely fine. Can we please just carry on?”

“Okay,” said Yaz. “Thanks for your honesty, babe.”

JJ was genuinely surprised when, apparently satisfied with her answer, Yaz kissed the crease of her leg, removed her fingers from the squeeze of her, and ducked her head between her thighs. 

She moaned upon the first broad stroke of her tongue, relaxing into the sheets and resting her hand on the back of Yaz’s head. 

Yaz used her tongue like a paintbrush—dipping it into JJ as deep as it would go, coating her tongue with treacly arousal, and then smearing it through her folds. JJ groaned each time Yaz pushed her tongue back inside her; lost her breath whenever she ghosted it across her clit.

“Yasmin,” purred JJ.

Black eyes glinting at JJ, Yaz licked her lips. “I could do this all night.”

“But—“

“More?”

JJ nodded. 

So, having left JJ thoroughly glossy and undeniably doused, Yaz gripped her thighs tight. It was plain by the look on her face that she was done playing. 

But it wasn’t quite what JJ expected.

To begin with, Yaz ate JJ like she always did: with gusto. 

Strained moan’s and Yaz’s full name hung perpetually from JJ’s parted lips as Yaz devoutly swilled her swollen clit, using tight licks and hollow cheeks. 

Would JJ ever tire of the novelty that was Yaz’s hot tongue lapping at her; of her sleek hair tickling JJ’s skin while she worked; of the way she massaged JJ’s thighs and buried her fingernails into her milky flesh when she got lost in her own mind blowing performance? 

Unlikely. 

Because it wasn’t novel. This was nothing new, and yet, each time, JJ felt just as blessed as the last to open her legs for Yaz and experience an unparalleled brand of pleasure at her mercy. 

Plus, whenever JJ thought too much about the fact that Yaz was down there _tasting_ her—and enjoying it, by the sound of it—the notion affected her past the point of logic. There’d never be another who knew her so intimately; who was so wholly acquainted with her flavours and her flaws and the things her face did when she came so hard (and, she hoped, vice versa).

Be that as it may, there was still room for them to surprise one another. 

JJ’s eyes were twisted shut and her head thrown back when one of Yaz’s hands retracted their sharp hold on her thigh, covered the hand JJ was resting on her head, and manipulated her fingers until JJ was fiercely gripping Yaz’s roots. 

Puzzled, JJ prised her eyes open, but Yaz wasn’t looking at her to receive or respond to the question written upon the dimple between her slanted brows. 

Mouth still hot and hungry against JJ, Yaz let go of her hand. JJ kept it there—fisted tight in her hair. If she thought that was the last of it, Yaz proved her wrong when she took hold of JJ’s hips and encouraged them off the bed. 

Just like that, JJ’s hips were in her air, she was holding Yaz’s face against her and, finally, Yaz caught her eye. 

She wasn’t a mind reader, but she understood well the affirming pop of Yaz’s brows—coinciding with a rallying tap on JJ’s hip. 

_Do it._

Only then did JJ cotton on. 

Yasmin Khan, one of the most dominant personalities she had ever known, was asking JJ to ride her face. To hold her head under the rushing, piquant valley of her. To use her. 

But—surely, JJ was reading things wrong. Yaz didn’t give up control. Yaz didn’t submit. Not ever. 

Right?

Testing the waters, JJ nudged her hips hardly a fraction and frowned at Yaz as if to say, _is this really what you want?_

As best she could in her current position, Yaz nodded.

JJ swallowed.

_Well,_ she thought, _here goes nothing._

Readjusting her clutch on Yaz’s hair, JJ started to move her hips. Initially, she went slow. Uncertainty held her back. This was brand new territory for both of them; she had no map to refer to, and no experience to draw upon. What if this was a test? What if she’d read the situation wrong? What if she hurt Yaz? What if, what if, what if? 

Her reservations were executed with a whimper. 

Yaz whimpered. 

JJ rocked her pelvis with a fraction more force against Yaz’s face—and she whimpered. Yaz’s cheeks turned dark and she quickly tore her gaze from JJ’s face as though humiliated at her reaction. Conversely, JJ was enthralled by it. Galvanised.

She wanted her to do it again. 

Instilled with newfound confidence, JJ thrusted her hips surer and pitched harshly against the tip of Yaz’s fast, phenomenal tongue. 

Forehead creased, Yaz let her eyelids flutter closed, _let_ JJ hold her head firm against her; _let_ JJ buck her hips with accumulating speed and vigor. She might have been blushing all over, but Yaz never did anything she didn’t want to do. And besides, this had been her idea. JJ was still trying to process that. 

Fortunately, she could multitask. 

“Fuck, Yaz,” JJ swore alongside another severe roll of her hips, finally letting her head drop back against the bed. 

The friction of Yaz’s tongue against her clit was one thing; the act of holding that friction in place and riding it was another altogether. JJ tugged Yaz’s roots and arched into her mouth, holding the position for a long moment and relishing in not just the sloppiness with which Yaz ate her out—not just the sensation of her full face being smothered against JJ’s heat—but the notion that Yaz wholeheartedly wanted this. 

If JJ had any doubts about that, the way Yaz refused to abate even when JJ softened her hold and dropped her hips to grant Yaz a breather put them to rest. Yaz buried her tongue inside her; lips, chin, and nose slathered with JJ’s bittersweet glaze. 

“Oh, you’re bloody miraculous,” moaned JJ. 

Compelled into action by a second, less abashed whimper Yaz made with her tongue flat against her, JJ picked up the slack she’d dropped. Fingers rigidified in thick hair. Pelvis rolled into a sticky-hot mouth. Thighs squeezed burning ears. Yaz tucked in like she had a napkin folded over her collar and JJ was a hearty Christmas dinner. 

Really, JJ was never going to last much longer than that. 

“Yaz,” she cried. “ _Yazyazyazyaz_ —don’t stop. _God_ , don’t stop.”

As if she could have. 

JJ held Yaz’s head firm in place—with both hands, now—and arched into her without pity. Adrenaline and abandon inundated her small body and accelerated the meteoric kick of her heart, like pure rocket fuel poured into the tank of a sports car. Her wheels lifted from the ground. She left the world behind in a blur of colour and sound. She turned towards the clouds.

She came. 

With a final jolt of her hips, and a staggered moan that _almost_ drowned out another of Yaz’s undignified yelps, JJ tore her own release from the curve of Yaz’s tongue. And it was spectacular. 

It was the kind of climax that overwhelmed every nerve with euphoria; the kind that came wave after immense wave. JJ rode their crests and swells until the seas turned smooth, jerking and spasming, groaning and writhing; milking Yaz’s mouth for every last ounce of gratification it had to offer. 

It occurred to JJ, in that vague sort of way things sometimes occur to people mid-orgasm, that the only reason she’d never let herself want this before was because of Yaz. 

Yaz had her role. JJ had hers. It’s how it always was and, JJ assumed, how it always would be. 

But, now that she’d tasted a thimble of that which she’d always (somewhat unwittingly) denied herself for Yaz, her mind opened to scores and scores of new possibilities. Each left her as jittery and concupiscent as the last. 

When the final wave of JJ’s rapture crashed down around her and left her drifting on her back, she let Yaz go. 

Ribs heaving, JJ allowed her limbs to turn limp and pressed a palm to her chest. Her heart wasn’t fast recovering. Nor was she. Was it any wonder? 

Between her legs, Yaz wiped her mouth and chin with the back of her hand. With uncharacteristic timidity, she haltingly lifted her eyes up and up until they found JJ’s face. JJ was ready and waiting to meet them with a bliss-drunk grin.

“Hiya.”

“Hi,” said Yaz. She licked her lips, a nervous tic, and sat back. “Um. How was that? Did you—I mean, were that good for you?”

JJ made a grabbing motion with her hand; Yaz took it and allowed herself to be pulled on top of JJ, who encircled her waist with her arms and bumped their noses together. 

“We’ve never done that before,” JJ said. 

“I know.” 

“It were brilliant.”

“Yeah, it was,” agreed Yaz. “You found your stride pretty fast. Surprised me.”

“Not in a bad way, I hope?”

“In the best way. Did you see how confident you were? Fuck, it turns me on so much to see you like that.” 

“Have to remember that one,” chucked JJ.

But Yaz wasn’t smiling. 

She studied JJ; took a breath. “Jamie—look, I think you’re the most remarkable person on the planet. It makes me wanna scream when you call yourself ordinary, or unattractive, or any of that.”

“Yeah, but—“

“How would you feel if I said those things about myself?”

JJ frowned and lowered her gaze, fiddling with one of the garters connecting Yaz’s thong to her stockings. “You know exactly how I’d feel.”

Yaz pried JJ’s fingers from her lingerie and kissed them. “I’m not tryna make you uncomfortable, babe, but think about it. Do you really think I’d let just anybody do what you just did? Do you think I’d let somebody average, someone who wasn’t special, fuck me the way you just fucked me?”

“Guess not,” mumbled JJ. 

“It’s fine that you’re not naturally confident, JJ. I’m not askin’ you to change. I’m just askin’ you to consider, once in a while, the way I see you.”

“I can’t even fathom the way you see me, Yasmin,” admitted JJ. 

“I see you,” drawled Yaz, granting JJ a featherlight kiss, “as cute as a button when you wanna be, handsome as hell when you wanna be, and downright beddable even when you don’t wanna be. But I see beneath it all, too.”

“Beneath it?”

Yaz tapped the centre of JJ’s chest. 

“Who you are in here. You’re so full of love, JJ, and it’s written all over your face when I look at you. All your smile lines. The broadness of your stupid, happy grin. That little crease between your brows. Your eyes…” Yaz trailed off at that, falling into JJ’s eyes and forgetting herself in them until JJ eventually blinked. Yaz’s gaze refocused and she ploughed on. “Yours is the kindest face I’ve ever seen in my life. I love it to death. So please don’t ever say anything cruel about it, babe, ‘cause you know I don’t respond kindly when people are cruel to the things I love.”

A refusal of Yaz’s solemn praise stumbled close to the ledge of JJ’s tongue; one look at Yaz, at her no-nonsense disposition, warned JJ against letting it fall. 

“Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry, Yaz.”

“It’s not me you owe an apology to.” Yaz turned JJ’s face to the side with a finger against her cheek. Across the room, JJ’s face—the kindest face Yaz had ever seen, apparently—looked back at her from the wardrobe mirror. “You’re nicer to everyone else than you ever are to yourself.”

“It’s just easier. Bein’ nice to other people—it’s so much easier,” JJ divulged, not without remorse. 

“I know.” Yaz kissed down JJ’s neck and JJ watched her do it in their reflection. Against the hollow of her throat, Yaz said, “I’ll help you get there. I’ll show you who you are. Every day. Until you believe me.”

A half-formed smile deepened the creases around JJ’s eyes. “There you go again, ladybird.”

“There I go again, what?”

“Makin’ me fall…” JJ sat up, cupped Yaz’s chin; kissed her. “And fall…” Without force, she manoeuvred Yaz onto her back and lay on top of her. Then she kissed her again. “And fall.”

The next kiss was so much deeper; it was sedate and undemanding, and all the more invigorating for it. JJ took the time to do nothing but enjoy the feel of Yaz’s mouth moving against her own. It wasn’t a push and pull, a back and forth, a deliberate move on a board. It was a dance.

Because Yaz was a dancer. 

And sometimes JJ was, too

JJ trailed a hand up and down Yaz’s side, brushing over skin and lace and silk with her fingertips. After a time, her palm came to rest flat on the side of Yaz’s knee. She slid it up her thigh. 

“Wait,” breathed Yaz. 

JJ whipped her hand away. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry. I just thought…” Sheepish all of a sudden, Yaz studied the narrow space between their bodies rather than confront JJ’s inquisitive profile. “I think I want more, this time.”

“More orgasms? Gimme a number.”

“No,” laughed Yaz, but JJ’s cluelessness must have pacified her apprehension, because she looked up again; shed a modicum of shyness. “I wanna feel more of you, babe. Inside me.”

“You… you mean…” Stunned, JJ drew her head back and pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “‘Cause I brought… but I didn’t think you liked... wait, what?”

“You don’t have to,” Yaz back-pedalled, “if you’re not comfortable with it. I know it’s not exactly typical for us.”

“Is this about givin’ me confidence again? ‘Cause I don’t want you doin’ stuff you don’t like just for my sake. That’s not gonna help either of us. I’d rather, y’know, make sure you’re enjoyin’ yourself. That gives me the most confidence.” 

“That’s not it.”

Yaz pushed herself into an upright position so JJ followed suit, kneeling astride Yaz’s lap and waiting, patiently, for her to explain. 

“It’s never been that I don’t like it, JJ, it’s just that I’ve never really trusted anyone like that before. It sounds daft, but it’s not a small thing for me. It’s actually one of the things that makes me feel most vulnerable. That’s why it didn’t exactly go accordin’ to plan last time.”

“Didn’t go accordin’ to plan? Yaz, you broke up with me right after it happened. That’s why I never asked to do it again.”

“I didn’t break up with you because you tried to top me, babe.”

“It were a fight, though. You resisted it. I tried to take control, and you took it right back. You’ve always been very clear that you don’t give it up for anyone.”

“You’re not anyone.”

JJ halted.

No, she wasn’t anyone. She was Jamie Smith; she was the woman Yasmin Khan fell in love with, and now Yasmin Khan was sitting in front of her and offering to do that which left her feeling her most defenceless. She was asking JJ to take her trust and treat it well. 

“Okay,” agreed JJ. 

The moment the word left her lips, a tingle of thrill prickled her fingertips and climbed her veins. Soon, her whole body was abuzz with it. 

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. BrillIant, actually.” JJ slapped a dopey, eager grin onto her face. What a dream this day was shaping up to be. She kissed Yaz’s forehead and sprang out of bed. “Wait right there, ladybird. I shan’t be a moment.”

Yaz laughed after her as she rummaged through her drawers for the little black bag that went almost everywhere with them. 

“You’re sure?” she checked.

“Absolutely!” Bag uncovered, JJ set it down on the desk and unzipped it. She’d brought along a pink satin harness and one of their old reliables: a thick, flesh coloured strap-on. She wasted no time in stepping into the harness. “I’ll be very honest, Yaz, I’ve been wantin’ to try this again for ages.”

“Why didn’t you say anythin’?”

“I’d never dream of askin’ you to do anythin’ you weren’t comfortable with. Besides, I know how you hate to let yourself be vulnerable.”

“Yeah, well…” Yaz shrugged. “I let myself love you, don’t I? I reckon you can’t get more vulnerable than that.”

Still buckling the harness, JJ flashed a manic smile over her shoulder, giddy as she was with excitement. Her keen hands fumbled the clasp a few times but, once it was secure, she didn’t even take a moment to appreciate the sight between her legs before reaching for the lube. 

“Flavoured or normal?” she called. “Probably normal, right? Unless you wanted to—“

“Flavoured.”

JJ looked around, eyes wide. Leaning back on her palms, Yaz sat at the foot of the bed with her legs crossed and the most tempting, coquettish invitation embedded in the curl of her lips. JJ set the plain bottle down. 

“Right,” she said, turning away again to hide her bewilderment. “Cool. Yeah. Flavoured, it is. Hope y’like raspberry.”

It was a miracle that JJ’s hands trembled only slightly when she poured the lube onto her hands and began to stroke it onto herself. Her abundant glee now found itself contending with a sudden, bubbling rush of nerves. 

She took a deep breath (which she hoped the music masked), lifted her chin, and strode towards the bed. 

Then she veered left. 

“Might wanna keep this handy,” she muttered, setting the lube down on the nightstand and wiping her hands on her thighs. Before braving Yaz—bold, feisty, brilliant Yaz, who was waiting for her to march over there and take charge—JJ dithered. Her feet wouldn’t move from the bedside. “Maybe I should just put some more on, actually. Have to make sure you use enough, don’t you? I don’t wanna—“

“Jamie?”

“Yes, Yasmin?”

“Stop worryin’ so much and get over here.”

Busted. 

“Right. Sorry.” 

Heart like a hive of angry bees, JJ rounded the bed. Yaz uncrossed her legs for her upon approach, so JJ stepped up between them and tried not to lose her composure when she had to look down at Yaz past the head of her shaft. 

It dawned on her, then, the magnitude of what was about to happen. Not necessarily the sex; more the radical exchange of power and the absolute faith Yaz was placing on JJ. It was a lot of pressure. 

“You’re a hundred percent sure about this?” asked JJ. “You trust me?”

Yaz wrapped her hand around the toy, stroked it, and fixed her sights on JJ’s face a split second before she managed to rein in her goggle-eyed stupefaction. 

“I trust you.”

JJ exhaled and nodded her head. “Good.”

Assured by Yaz’s show of willingness, JJ took the slightest step forward and combed her fingers through Yaz’s hair. Yaz watched her and waited; it was clear from the negligible squint of her eyes that she was interested to see how JJ would fare. That made two of them. 

Two slender fingers slid along Yaz’s cheekbone; then, with thumb and forefinger, JJ tugged at her lower lip. Yaz opened her mouth.

JJ smiled. “Good girl.”

Yaz looked away fast. Too fast. Her response only betrayed that which she was hoping to hide. 

Who’d have guessed it? 

Before today, not JJ. 

Closing her hand around the base of the strap, JJ nudged the tip past Yaz’s waiting lips. Her throat was tight and her hands clammy when Yaz opened her mouth wider and leaned in, taking the shaft to the back of her tongue. 

Their eyes met. 

JJ wasn’t sure how to proceed, and Yaz must have sensed it. She lifted her hands to JJ’s hips to coax them forward; a scene vaguely reminiscent of the manner in which she’d prompted JJ to ride her face earlier. But JJ didn’t like to make presumptions. Yaz’s trust was as rare as it was fragile; the idea of shattering it made JJ deeply, deeply uneasy. 

She pulled out of Yaz’s mouth.

“Sorry, sorry,” she winced. “I just—I wanna be absolutely, crystal clear before I do anythin’. Um. ‘Cause it kinda looked like you wanted me to—y’know—like before. Except this time with the strap. But I might’ve been mistaken.”

Chin ducked, Yaz pursed her lips to stymie a smile. She’d definitely seen this coming. “That’s exactly what I were after, babe.” When she lifted her head again, the smile was gone. “But only if _you_ want to.”

“‘Course I do. I one-thousand-and-one percent do,” gushed JJ. “Um. But it’s okay if I do it gentle, right?”

“Whatever pace works best for you.”

“And you,” JJ insisted. 

“I’m happy to let you take the lead on this one, JJ.”

“Right. ‘Course.” JJ scratched her brow. “Sorry, am I ruinin’ the vibe?”

Yaz shook her head. “Not at all.” 

As if to convince her of precisely that, Yaz picked up one of JJ’s hands and kissed the inside of her wrist, and then her palm, and then her fingers. The softest of gestures; they pacified JJ without end. When she was done, Yaz placed JJ’s hand at the back of her head and winked at her. Her manner wasn’t seductive so much as it was encouraging. 

And so JJ tried again. 

Determined not to let her own cautiousness get in the way, JJ swallowed her hang-ups and prodded the tip against Yaz’s mouth. Once more, Yaz’s lips opened for her. Once more, JJ slid across the length of her tongue.

This time, when all but a few centimetres of silicone had disappeared inside Yaz’s mouth, JJ didn’t freeze. Rather, she interlocked her fingers behind Yaz’s head, reeled back her hips, and then glided in again. And again. And again. She found a steady rhythm and kept at it, not least because concentrating on anything more complex would have been a mighty chore when Yaz was painting the most transcendental picture below her: brows furrowed, hands resting on JJ’s hips, the entire shaft disappearing past her lips with every rut of JJ’s pelvis. Not to mention that her legs were open and JJ had a full view of what lay in between. 

This was probably the thing that impelled JJ to an unintentionally quicker stride. She didn’t even realise until Yaz moaned receptively around the toy. JJ’s pace faltered only briefly.

“Christ, Yaz,” she puffed, “you’re so good at that. Look at you.”

Driving her point home, JJ pushed slowly towards the back of Yaz’s throat. When Yaz’s mouth was all but level with the harness, she didn’t splutter or cough; she didn’t choke or gasp—she just looked up, and she waited, and JJ didn’t understand what she was waiting for. Until it dawned on her.

Because what would _she_ have been waiting for in Yaz’s shoes? 

Just one thing. 

“Good job, baby,” JJ crooned. The words tasted alien on her tongue, but not in an especially unwelcome way. “You’re doin’ so well down there.”

Yaz exhaled shakily through her nose—and there, again, was that dark tint in her cheeks. It spread to her neck and the tops of her ears. Never in all her wildest fantasies could JJ have envisaged that all she’d have to do to make Yaz blush, to humble her, was lower the cadence of her voice and sing sweet praises. 

Though it’s not like JJ wasn’t also blushing. 

“Just a little bit more, yeah?” she said, sounding altogether more collected than she felt. “Like you mean it. Like you love me.”

Evidently the right thing to say. 

In tandem with a forceful thrust of her head, Yaz’s hand stroked the toy from the base and she started to suck JJ off without guidance or temperance—she didn’t hold back one bit. Meanwhile, JJ was struggling to retain her balance amidst the enthusiasm with which Yaz took her to the back of her throat repeatedly (and, oh, the music Yaz’s mouth made. Gulping. Wet. Absolutely pornographic). 

JJ bit down on her knuckles. In a word, she was gone. So, so gone. 

She let Yaz keep at it for a few moments more. Really, it was self-serving and not at all like JJ; Yaz was working hard and there was no reason for it, no pleasure to be sought, except JJ’s barefaced enjoyment of it. 

Acknowledging this fact soon guilted her into pardoning Yaz of her formidable labour. JJ pulled out of Yaz’s mouth and, before she had a chance to wipe the spit from it, leaned down to kiss her. It was full-hearted, it was recompense; it was a little bit of an apology. 

Once she’d sucked the raspberry from Yaz’s slippery lips, JJ stood back. 

Yaz lifted her face. Moon-eyed, she silently awaited further instruction. Even as she was living it, this entire situation was unthinkable to JJ. She half expected Yaz to pounce on her at any moment; kept waiting for her to pin JJ down, take back control, and conquer her like she’d done way back when in that grand Parisian office.

That never happened. 

“Lie down, ladybird,” instructed JJ. She smiled at Yaz with all the kindness Yaz loved her for. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Whilst Yaz shuffled towards the centre of the bed, JJ reapplied another squeeze of lube and glanced at Yaz to gauge her state of mind. She was lying flat on her back and staring at the ceiling. Her index finger drummed rapidly against the side of her leg—a tell JJ recognised well. 

“It’s all right if you wanna change your mind, y’know?” she said, climbing on after Yaz and sitting beside her. “There’s no pressure.”

“What makes you think I wanna change my mind?”

JJ looked pointedly at Yaz’s forefinger. Yaz balled her hand. 

“I haven’t changed my mind, babe. I’m just not used to this, that’s all,” sighed Yaz. “I’m used to callin’ the shots. I don’t know how to act when I have to just…”

“You don’t _have_ to do anythin’.”

“No, that’s not—I want to. I really, really want to.” Yaz took JJ’s hand and tugged her on top of her. When they were nose to nose, Yaz inhaled deep; exhaled slow. “I want to because it’s you, and because what we just did really turned me on. See?”

Yaz guided one of JJ’s hands between her legs. Sure enough, the evidence of her arousal was thick and warm at JJ’s fingertips. JJ’s every muscle flexed with the oppressive desire to see to Yaz’s needs properly. 

“And, to be honest, you’re not doin’ a half bad job of things,” admitted Yaz. “At takin’ control, I mean.”

JJ would have liked to say that she didn’t see this as taking control; she saw this as making Yaz happy in whatever way she could. She saw this as a new adventure for them to take on together. She saw this as another way for her to say, _Look, Yaz. Look how I’ve got you. Look how I’ll always have you. You don’t need your defences with me._

But she worried her words might have an adverse effect; might put more pressure on Yaz than was necessary. 

Instead, she tucked them beneath her tongue and said, “You’re not doin’ half bad either. I’ve always said you’re brilliant with your mouth but, well, I had no idea, did I?”

“What can I say?” Yaz lifted her shoulders. “I’m full of surprises.”

“Yeah?” JJ linked her fingers with Yaz’s and pinned her hands to the bed at either side of her head. “So am I.”

Without warning, she sunk into Yaz’s neck. Yaz gasped the moment her teeth emerged, fingers tightening around JJ’s and breath catching on nothing. The way Yaz squirmed against JJ’s body—the way all of her frills and bows caressed her bare skin with each slight jostle—only ramped up the lecherous spirit possessing her further. 

“God, I love the way your skin tastes,” husked JJ. 

Her tongue roamed free across Yaz’s neck, her collarbones; her cleavage. She nestled it into the tight space between her breasts like she’d been dying to do all night and licked her. Again, this was entirely self-serving. JJ felt not a shred of guilt about it. 

Surrendering Yaz’s hands, JJ took to fondling Yaz over her bra; mouthing greedily at a rigid nipple poking through the soft material. 

She couldn’t help but feel like a kid let loose in a sweet shop. How else was she ever going to act when she had Yaz lying beneath her, granting her free reign over her body and every mouth-watering spectacle it had to offer? Yaz couldn’t rush her. Couldn’t flip her over and deny her. Couldn’t tease. 

Because JJ was in charge.

And what JJ wanted, always, was Yaz in her entirety. 

Seeking out the slim stretch of smooth, exposed skin between Yaz’s corset and her bra, JJ nibbled and sucked; hummed and groaned. She cupped Yaz’s breasts in her greedy hands, careful enough not to be considered rough. 

Upon feeling a noticeable resistance at her pelvis, JJ unfastened herself from Yaz’s abdomen and looked down to find Yaz grinding against the strap. 

The wide head slipped back and forth through her sleek folds. Yaz grunted—frustrated or pleased, JJ couldn't hazard. 

“Thought I were runnin’ this show?” cracked JJ, though her voice ran haggard with lust. 

“I just need—“

“Wait, wait. Hold that thought.” Not until JJ was chest to chest and face to face with Yaz, not until she was looking her right in the eye and totally prepared to both hear and savour the next words to come out of her mouth, did JJ say, “Okay. Go ahead. Tell me.”

Conflict behind Yaz’s eyes; lodged, like fragments of a bullet, in the dark brown ringed around her swollen pupils. 

“Just say it,” persuaded JJ. She kissed Yaz’s chin. “It’s okay to say it. It’s me, Yasmin. Only me.”

Gingerly, Yaz lifted her palm to JJ’s cheek. Her mouth opened, but it took a handful of long seconds for her to find her voice. 

“I need you, JJ,” she said at last. “All of you. I wanna feel you like this.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m ready.”

She sounded it, too. 

JJ smiled softly. “My lovely ladybird,” she exhaled adoringly, nudging her nose against Yaz’s. “I’ll take good care of you. I promise.”

Yaz held JJ’s face and pressed her lips to her forehead. “You’ve got this, babe.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I have, haven’t I?” 

Of course she did.

Jamie Smith had this. 

Blowing out her cheeks, JJ repositioned herself between Yaz’s legs. She kept trying to shoulder her hair out of her face whilst she angled herself, and her hair kept falling back into her face, and she swore. Laughing lightly, Yaz tucked the wayward lock of hair behind her ear for her. JJ offered a bashful smile in return.

“Right,” JJ said once she’d guided her tip to the mouth of Yaz’s entrance. She couldn’t actually think of anything else to say. Any other way to stall.

She didn’t _want_ to stall. It was just that—well, if she did this wrong, if she messed this up, Yaz would undoubtedly never want to let herself be so vulnerable again. JJ would ruin this for her forever. Take something from her. Whereas, if she did it right, it could be a huge step towards dismantling another of Yaz’s walls.

No pressure, then. 

“Yaz—“

“Just kiss me,” urged Yaz. “Stop thinkin’ and kiss me.”

She sought out JJ’s mouth and engaged her in a rich, full-body-warming kiss. It dulled every sense save for the way Yaz’s quiet purr vibrated inside her mouth. JJ’s tongue buzzed, her lips parted; before she knew it, her pelvis was rolling forwards. 

Not until at least half of the shaft was snug inside of Yaz did she gasp. 

“You okay?” JJ checked, begrudgingly relinquishing Yaz’s tongue

“I will be when you give me the rest.”

An impatient reminder: Yaz was no brittle thing.

Amusement strummed at JJ’s features. “Ask and you shall receive, my love.”

This time, rather than wrap themselves up in a kiss, they both watched JJ push herself into Yaz—captivated. When every rubber inch was submerged entirely within her, Yaz let out a long, even breath. JJ had to look away to keep from being overwhelmed. 

“How’s that feelin’?” she wondered. 

“It feels,” started Yaz, sliding her hands across JJ’s backside and nudging her ever-so-slightly deeper, “like I want you to show me what you can really do with it.”

“That, I can do, ladybird,” JJ said with a gloating lilt. “I just have one teensy condition.”

“A condition?”

Lips hovering beside Yaz’s ear, JJ wove a nefarious thread through her tone and whispered, “I wanna hear you moan.”

Then she pulled back, gave Yaz a second to brace herself, and plunged right back into the welcoming thrutch of her. Right on cue, Yaz’s spine bent and she moaned.

“Good girl,” drawled JJ. 

She couldn’t say whether it was another deep lunge of her hips or the crumb of praise that did it but, when Yaz reacted with a tight-jawed groan and tilted her head back, JJ found herself chasing such reactions purely for the shock of adrenaline and blistering arousal they inspired. 

Sucking the lobe of Yaz’s ear, JJ buried herself continually between her thighs with slow, deep thrusts and synchronised grunts. 

“Jamie,” panted Yaz. Her fingers were in JJ’s hair; she was breathing heavily and moaning delectably.

“That’s it, Yaz.” JJ drove into her again and watched her face contort with pleasure. “Keep bein’ good for me, yeah? Can you do that?”

Yaz’s skin turned _so_ hot. 

Regardless, she nodded.

JJ would have been lying to say that Yaz’s willing compliance wasn’t at least partly responsible for her smug timbre when she pressed her lips to her temple and told her, “That’s my sweet girl.” 

“You’re lovin’ this,” Yaz accused through gritted teeth. 

“Just a tad.”

Pitching into her again, JJ rested her brow against Yaz’s and left her nowhere to look except her eyes. JJ didn’t pull back out. Rather, she filled Yaz with the full, impressive length of her and grinded against her crotch. 

“Oh, fuck.” 

“Feel good?”

If the way Yaz keened into her and whimpered was anything to go by, it most certainly did. 

JJ found a spot on Yaz’s jaw to kiss and pinch between her teeth, grinning wider each time Yaz rutted against the strap and clutched JJ’s body closer. 

“You look so hot when you need me like this, Yasmin.” She jerked into her again. Yaz made a low, primal sound. “I love you so much. So much. Fuck. That’s it. You’re takin’ me so well, aren’t you?”

Yaz grabbed JJ’s face and yanked her close. JJ had been expecting a hard kiss. Instead, into her open mouth, Yaz pleaded, “Please—more.”

God, Yaz was begging. Literally begging. JJ thought she’d died and gone to heaven. 

But of course JJ was going to have a _little_ fun with it. Slipping out of Yaz, she held onto the shaft and dragged the head over Yaz’s clit. Yaz squirmed and clamped her eyes shut. 

JJ tilted her head. “Do you think you’re ready?”

“Jamie, I swear to—“

“Bad girls get nothin’, Yasmin.”

When Yaz opened her eyes again, there was so much controlled fury in them that JJ worried she’d gone too far. Was this the end of JJ’s reign? Was Yaz about to reclaim her throne, her crown; her place on top? But—no. JJ wasn’t about to go down without a fight. Not this time. 

She rubbed harder against Yaz’s clit and watched desperation smother every last ember of rage. 

“I just wanna hear how much you want me, baby.” JJ stroked Yaz’s hair. Meanwhile, she slid the toy along the length of her and refused her the presence she so clearly craved. “Can you be a good girl and do that for me?”

Yaz caved just like that. 

“Babe, please,” she gasped, “just give me more. I want you to give me more. Shit— _why_ are you so good at this?”

JJ simpered. “What, thought you’d have to hold my hand through it, did you?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

“Nah. This time around, Yaz,” JJ said, curling her arms around Yaz’s shoulders and easing herself back inside of her, “I’ll be the one holdin’ you. Okay?”

Yaz took a deep breath through her nose. “Okay.”

“Good. And Yaz?”

“Babe?”

“I love you.”

Yaz’s jaw sprang open when JJ propelled the shaft in and out of her with much faster snaps of her hips than before. Bed springs squealed, the headboard thudded against the wall; moans poured out of Yaz’s throat in one continuous stream. 

It was a good thing their room was a way away from everybody else’s. 

JJ planted passionate, wet kisses everywhere and anywhere. If it was part of Yaz, it was fair game: shoulder, neck, cheek, ear, mouth (even when Yaz was too overstimulated to reciprocate). She fastened her lips to the thumping artery in Yaz’s throat and got a colossal kick out of the way her every carnal mewl rumbled against the tip of JJ’s tongue. 

“Oh, perfect,” groaned JJ, licking inside Yaz’s wide open mouth. “You’re so perfect. Look at you. How does it feel, ladybird?”

“So good,” whined Yaz. “So, so good.”

Good wasn’t good enough. 

Hoisting Yaz’s legs up a fraction further, JJ slammed into her at an adjusted angle. Yaz cried out; raked her nails sharply across JJ’s back. Stinging pain. Eye watering. JJ envisioned the bright red marks, the broken skin, Yaz would leave behind and her heart kicked harder. All they were was sure signs of Yaz’s rapture, and Yaz’s rapture was all JJ lived for. 

“You’re doing brilliantly, Yaz,” JJ hailed hoarsely. “I’m so proud of you.”

Affected again by JJ’s words, Yaz hid her face in JJ’s shoulder and grated her nails harder against her flesh. Her whole body jolted with every smack of wet skin. JJ glanced down. Yaz was, quite literally, dripping. 

“Jesus Christ,” heaved JJ. She felt light-headed all of a sudden. Not for the first time, the fact of what they were doing blindsided her like a sucker punch to the head and left her feeling just as woozy. There was no doubt in her mind that, were she to reach beneath her harness, she’d find herself just as wet as Yaz. 

Presently, Yaz bit down on JJ’s shoulder. JJ didn’t think it was intentional; thought it more likely she was acting on animal instinct. Her next moan was muffled by JJ’s skin. 

“C’mon, Yaz, I wanna hear you properly. I wanna hear all those lovely noises you make.”

Taking care not to hurt her, JJ delicately detached Yaz from the crook of her neck by her hair. The pain in her shoulder dulled—the one at her back intensified. Yaz’s head dropped to the sheets and ecstasy sculpted her face into something beyond human; something celestial. JJ could pen a thousand sonnets about every single crease in her face, every single bead of sweat dampening her skin and how they each lassoed the light for her, if only there were enough ink and time in the world. 

“Jamie—Jamie—“ Yaz’s breaths were shallowing; she struggled to speak amidst JJ’s dogged pace and her own guttural moans. 

In lieu of a coherent sentence, she pushed her palms against JJ’s chest mid-thrust. 

“Yaz?” 

Stomach turning with the idea that she’d hurt Yaz or pushed her too far, JJ tried to pull out. But then, perplexing her more, Yaz squeezed the backs of her thighs and pulled her flush. She made a content sort of sound. JJ was flummoxed. It wasn’t until Yaz began to guide her in and out, slow and steady, that it dawned on her what had just happened.

“Yaz? Um, were you just about to…?”

Eyes half-lidded, Yaz nodded. “I were about to go right over the edge, babe.”

JJ kept up her easier stride even after Yaz stopped steering her. Calm, she could manage. Intimate, she had mastered. 

“Why didn’t you?” she asked. 

Yaz shook her head, wincing each time JJ pushed all the way back inside her. “Not like that. Like this.”

“Was it too much?” fretted JJ. 

“No, but it’s our first time doin’ this, babe. I kinda wanna— _oh_ —savour it a bit more. I wanna enjoy what it feels like to have you like— _oh_ —like this for a while— _oh_ —longer. _Fuck_. Is that okay?”

JJ’s lips stretched a little wider. “Of course it’s okay. You’re havin’ a good time, then?”

Battling her own breathlessness, all Yaz could muster was an earnest, “Yes.”

“Me, too. And for what it’s worth…” JJ kissed Yaz with just enough zeal to leave her chasing after her lips with a dissatisfied frown when she abruptly pulled back. “I genuinely do think you’re doin’ really well.”

“God,” puffed Yaz, “I hate that that works.”

JJ rolled into Yaz and licked her lips, shamelessly revelling in every twist of her mouth and pinch of her brows. 

“Ah, I’m sure you’ll get your own back.”

“Oh, I will. Believe me.”

“But right now,” JJ pressed on, “just be a good girl and make some noise for me.”

Yaz obviously hadn’t noticed that one of JJ’s hands had crept between her thighs until she applied some pressure. With a noisy start, she canted into JJ’s fingers on reflex. 

JJ touched Yaz softly. Every lurch of her hips was unhurried and deliberate; every stroke of her fingers a caress rather than an attack. This way, they could look one another in the eye as JJ made love to her. They could relish in the feeling of skin on skin, lips on lips, lips on skin. They could smile. Talk. Breathe. Touch, touch, touch. 

There was magic to it, JJ thought. Real magic. It swam in the air around them and it got stuck to their sweaty skin; it was in the smoke rising from the candles and it was in the snow on the window pane. 

It was in the way Yaz said her name. 

After a time, in the low light and the flickering warmth, Yaz came around JJ. 

She wrapped her arms around her, and she held her, and she came to the tune of JJ whispering of love in her ear. And it was beautiful. 

Dully aching behind her ribs, JJ’s sentimental old heart begged her not to let this moment pass her by without regard.

Because it was monumental, was it not? There was a whole, vibrant universe standing between where the two of them now lay, wrapped up in one another’s love, and where they had begun. 

Every day back then, for months on end, JJ had swallowed the bitter pill—the slow-acting poison—that Yaz would never trust her so completely. Truthfully, she’d ingested all sorts of poisons at Yaz’s behest: _she’ll never see you, she’ll never want you, she’ll never remember you when all of this is through._

How ill she had fallen. 

Here, now, she found her final antidote. She found new health in the way Yaz clung from her bones; found a way out of the sick ward in following Yaz’s song of euphoria. JJ stepped out through the exit doors, and Yaz was waiting on the other side beneath blue skies and birdsong. As she had always been. Her ailment, now her cure. Her cage, now her key. Her lonely heart, now beating right beside JJ’s in sweetest harmony. 

What had it taken?

It had taken a lot.

What was it worth? 

So much more. 

A drop of water landed on Yaz’s cheek in the wake of her apotheosis. Upon opening her eyes, she frowned at JJ. Concern plagued her features. 

“Babe?” Yaz broached. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re crying.”

Oh. Not water, then. 

“Am I?” JJ wiped her cheeks dry. “Sorry. Think I’m, uh, allergic to one of these candles.”

Embarrassed, JJ pulled out of Yaz and turned away to unfasten herself, rapidly blinking the moisture from her eyes. Once she’d dropped the harness onto the floor, she felt two hands sliding up her back and across her shoulders. Yaz gently pulled her down beside her.

“What’s wrong, JJ?” she asked. The patience interlacing her voice prompted another well of tears to spring forth from a creek JJ wished would run dry already. 

“You’ll think I’m soft,” sniffled JJ.

“You are soft,” Yaz smiled. “Nothin’ wrong with that.”

“It’s just… Christ, I’m so proud of you, ladybird. So proud. I mean, look at how far you’ve come.” JJ clasped one of Yaz’s hands in hers and held on tight. “It didn’t really hit me how much has changed ‘til tonight, but it has. Everything’s changed. D’you remember how you used to be so closed off? How you always used to keep me at arm’s length ‘cause you were so scared. And this is it. This is what you were scared of. Look around.”

Yaz fixed her eyes on JJ’s hands, which squeezed her own as if to crush bone. She didn’t say anything.

“You were frightened of this—familiarity, intimacy, openness. And I think, sometimes, it probably still frightens you. But that’s what makes you so brave. Every day, I see you steppin’ further outside your comfort zone. You did it with my family this weekend, and I know that weren’t easy, and you did it again just now. You put your faith in me, Yasmin. It’s what I’ve been strivin’ for since the day we met.”

As though to respond, Yaz opened her mouth. JJ waited attentively. In the end, she closed it again; kept staring at their hands. 

“Well. I s’pose I just wanted to thank you,” JJ carried on, no less choked up, “for givin’ me a chance. For givin’ life a chance. Ask me, you’re doin’ an ace job of it. And I hope you’re enjoyin’ it, Yasmin, because it’s so brilliant. Life is so brilliant, and I just wanna know you’re gettin’ as much out of it as you can. If the only thing I accomplish for the rest of my life is makin’ yours better, I’ll die happy. So, so happy.”

JJ was crying profusely now. She couldn’t help it; love had always made her cry. The lack of it, the ache for it, and now the abundance of it. 

“Bloody hell, babe,” sighed Yaz. She pulled JJ into her arms, where she sobbed against her neck, and smoothed over her hair with the flat of her palm. If she’d been attempting to mollify JJ, she was failing. 

In Yaz’s arms, JJ cried harder.

“Jamie, you really need to stop cryin’ before you set me off,” urged Yaz. Her voice wobbled. 

“I can’t help it.” When JJ looked up, her eyes were red and puffy and the tears were streaming freely. “I never thought you’d hold me like this. Back then, I mean. I dreamed about it all the time but I never thought… I never thought…”

“Okay, just breathe.” Yaz picked JJ’s wet face up in her hands. “Stop talkin’ and just breathe.”

“But—“

“Seriously. ‘Cause if I start cryin’… if I start cryin’... _fuck_.” One of the tears Yaz had been trying so hard to hamper slipped down her cheek. “God, I hate you sometimes, Jamie. C’mere.”

In all likelihood an effort to mask her own tears, Yaz held JJ’s face to her neck again and kissed the top of her head. Her lips lingered there for a long time. JJ could feel, in the hitch of her every breath, that Yaz was crying right alongside her. 

“Sorry, Yaz,” JJ wept without lifting her head. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. I just can’t stand to see you cry.”

“But they’re happy tears.”

“I still can’t stand it.”

“...Yaz, I can’t stop. I think I’m gettin’ a headache. You need to make it stop.”

“You started it!”

“ _Please_.”

“Christ, all right. Um.” Yaz dried one of her eyes with the heel of her palm. “Okay. So, last week, I bought some shoes from a drug dealer—

JJ’s breathing choked to a stop. “You did _what_?”

“Yeah. I dunno what he laced them with, but I were trippin’ all day.”

Incredulous, JJ lifted her head. “Yaz, that’s really dangerous. You can’t—“

“Babe, it’s a joke. Trippin’. Drugs. Laces. Get it?”

“Oh,” JJ frowned, still hiccuping from her sob attack. She rested her head on Yaz again. “I didn’t like it. Tell me a different one.”

“What am I, your performin’ monkey?”

“Ooh, tell me a Christmas joke.”

Yaz huffed. “Fine. Let’s see, um… all right—one of Bill’s. Why doesn’t Santa have any kids?”

“Well, are we not countin’ the elves? ‘Cause, in a way, I reckon they’re like his children. His fam. Which would mean he actually has tonnes of kids.”

“Babe.”

“Sorry. I dunno, why?”

“‘Cause he only comes once a year.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Take a minute.”

“Wait—oh! Oh… ew, Yaz, c’mon. Can’t talk about Santa like that. It’s, like, a cardinal sin.”

“Y’know, babe, considerin’ the quality of your jokes, I don’t think you really have a leg to stand on.”

“One more? A funny one?”

“What you find funny is a mystery to me.”

“You can do it, Yaz. I believe in you.”

“Right. Last one. What do you get when you walk under a cow?”

“What?”

“A pat on the head… You’re—really, that’s the one you laugh at?”

“I liked that one.”

“Yeah, well. I’m here all night.”

“Did y’know cows have best friends? Like, they choose another cow in the herd that they like the best and they’re like, yeah, this is my best buddy.”

“Yeah? Do they hang out together? Go to the movies? Grab a drink in the pub after a hard day’s graft?”

“I’m serious!”

“So am I.”

“Do you think, if we were cows, that we’d be best friends?”

“Is that an actual question that you’re actually askin’ me?”

“Yes?”

“...Think I’m gonna go sleep in the garden, actually.”

“ _Yaz_.”

“For god’s sake. Yes, Jamie. I think we’d be the bestest friends and I’d always save some of the lushest grass for you and we’d frolic forever in the fields. Happy?”

“Super happy.”

“We’d probably even end up on the same steak butty.”

“You’re awful.”

“You’re not cryin’ anymore though, are you?”

“Hard to cry when my cheek’s restin’ on your boobs.”

“Touching.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“And you say my jokes are bad.”

“Who’s jokin’?”

“Babe. Get your hand off my boob.”

“But it’s my comfort boob.”

“Know what? I change my mind. Bill’d be my cow bestie.”

“Bill? Bill Potts? Over me?”

“Yep.”

“What an udderly terrible choice.”

* * *

Boxing Day bloomed white. 

It had snowed through the night; where it fell, it stuck; where it stuck, it shone blinding in the pale sun. JJ’s curtainless bay window did very little to shield them from the harsh morning light, so they woke early. They lazed. They kept one another warm beneath the sheets and then, once cold bones were a thing of the past, they talked. 

One such conversation, concerning home and family and a thousand regrets, led them precisely to where they now were.

“C’mon, ladybird, this was the deal,” JJ pleaded. “I put this on, and you make the call. You promised.”

JJ was standing at the foot of the bed and Yaz, cross-legged in the centre of it, was laughing. Face turning rosy, JJ looked down at herself. It wasn’t that bad, was it? Sure, she’d outgrown it a little—the hems of the trousers hardly made it two thirds of the way down her calves; likewise, the sleeves cut off way before her wrists, meaning she’d had to roll them up. 

The colour hadn’t faded though. The orange was still bright and the fur was still soft; it had been very carefully looked after. Even the tail was in good nick: bushy, white-tipped, and you could hardly even tell that JJ had once accidentally set it alight after getting too close to the fireplace. 

Tufts of blonde hair stuck out from beneath her hood. One of the ears kept dropping, no matter what JJ did, but the other stood sharply to attention. 

Now that she was coddled in its warmth again, JJ had to wonder why she’d ever stopped wearing it. 

But then Yaz kept on laughing, and she remembered.

“Y'think I look daft,” mumbled JJ. 

“No. No, babe,” Yaz denied, raising her palms. “I think you look bloody adorable. Like, my chest actually hurts.”

"Really?"

"Really. We're defo bringin' that back with us."

“Yeah, well, we made a deal,” JJ reminded her, clambering onto the bed and sitting opposite her. She put her hands on Yaz’s knees. “I held up my end. Now it’s your turn.”

The smile slipped from Yaz’s face. “Your end was way easier.”

“I know. But we’ve gone ‘round and ‘round on this all mornin’, ladybird. It were your idea. Obviously, I won’t force you, but you said it yourself—somethin’ has to give.”

Slapping her phone against her palm, Yaz pitched a heavy sigh. 

“What if—“

“We’ve gone through every ‘what if’ in the book, Yasmin. One conversation, that’s all. One small step. And I’ll be right here with you the whole time. I mean, unless you don’t want me here, ‘cause I can always lea—“

“Don’t leave,” blurted Yaz. She grabbed JJ’s wrist. “Please don’t leave.”

JJ regarded the fierceness with which Yaz held onto her and her heart wept nothing but sympathy. 

“Okay,” she said. “I won’t leave.”

Yaz’s grip loosened. Reluctantly, she looked down at her phone.

“I can do this,” she breathed.

“You absolutely can.”

Straightening her posture, Yaz unlocked her phone and pulled up her contacts. By the time she found the one she was looking for, she was chewing her lip and bouncing her knee. Her thumb dangled over the call button. Panic struck her face and she looked to JJ, desperate for a final push. 

JJ kissed her. A tender press of mouths. A squeeze of her hand. A reassurance. 

“Everythin’ll be okay, ladybird,” she guaranteed, precursing another kiss between her eyebrows. 

“How can you know that?”

“‘Cause I’ve got faith, Yaz. I don’t think the world wants to be that cruel to you. I think, by now, you’ve had enough.” JJ glanced at the phone. “Want me to press it?”

“Can you?” 

“Here.”

JJ picked up one of Yaz’s fingers and led it across the screen. She only paused long enough to send Yaz a nod, and then she pressed her finger to the call button.

Hand shaking, Yaz held the phone to her ear. 

JJ could hear it ringing.

_Ring-ring._

_Ring-ring._

_Ring—_

_Click._

Yaz clamped down on JJ’s hand. 

“ _Yaz_?" came the voice on the other line. "Yaz, _is that you?_ ”

When, fraught with anxiety, Yaz caught JJ's eye, she beamed warmly at her and held her knuckles to her lips. Between them, she whispered, "You've got this."

Yaz nodded.

Of course she did.

Yasmin Khan had this. 

Eyes falling closed, she took a deep breath.

“Hi, mum,” she said at last. “It’s me. How’s everybody doing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how wild would it have been if JJ opened that pocket watch and it turned out to be a chameleon arch and she turned into the doctor like would that have been mad or what LMAO anyways aren't u glad i didn't do that x
> 
> also i’m sorry if some of this felt rushed i was just so ready to be done with it lol


	17. vital organs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been so long i have work n depression i'm sure u can understand x
> 
> speaking of, there are quite heavy themes of depression in this chapter & it's another one i had to cut in two bc i realised it's been ages since i posted so it's not very long but oh well lmao pls enjoy x

“I never meant to hurt you, love,” proclaimed Yaz, striding across JJ’s sunlit living room towards her. “I was possessed by a foul darkness. A demon I could not fight. It drove me to madness.”

JJ squinted at the script in her hand and said, “It drove you to his bed.” Her eyes turned wide. “Yaz, did you cheat on me?”

Without needing to refer to a script, Yaz grabbed JJ’s upper arms, searched her for mercy with convincing desperation, and said, “I admit, I was weak, but you make me strong. With you at my side, I will conquer any demon. With me at yours, you will conquer this kingdom. We need one another, don’t you see? I need your sword, and you need my royal blood.”

Impressed by Yaz’s compelling performance, JJ attempted to match her earnestness. Briefly, she scanned her page.

“True, your royal blood is what drove me into your arms,” JJ began in a poor mimicry of an aristocratic tongue, placing a hand on Yaz’s cheek, “and I gladly offer my sword to you, love. I will…. uh. Sorry, one sec.”

JJ studied the script again, silently mouthing the words whilst Yaz, like a character paused on screen, waited motionless and unerringly patient. 

“I will be your weapon,” JJ continued. “I will be your mercenary; let your adversaries die by my blade. Or I could lay my sword down. You could leave your crown to gather dust.”

“Leave my crown?”

JJ brandished a wooden spoon from the waistband of her trousers and leapt up onto the sofa, lifting the spoon into the air with no shortage of melodrama. 

“Say the word, fair princess, and I will cast this sword into the river!”

“Ocean,” corrected Yaz. 

“I will cast this sword into the ocean! Wait, where are we?”

“On a boat.”

“Where are we goin’?”

“Babe, can you just…”

“Sorry, sorry! Uh, where was I?”

“Might help if you put your glasses on.”

“Does the knight wear glasses?”

“Well, no—“

“Then I refuse!” JJ turned the page of her script. “We need not conquer this… what does that say?”

“Pitiful.”

“Well, I’m tryin’ my best!”

“No, babe, that’s what it says.”

“Oh. Right. We need not conquer this pitiful pile of rocks and rubble. I crave only to reign over your heart. To love and be loved by you. Is that not enough?”

Yaz tugged JJ down from the sofa and stepped up to her. “You are a fool to think we could survive on love alone.”

“Should our love be true enough, I know it to be possible. If only you take my hand, I will ride with you toward a better life. A simple life. We will make it ours. Like this, I will slay your demons, for they will wither to know you are happy.”

Yaz cupped JJ’s face and sighed. “I do love you, but you are not even half of yourself without your rage; without your thirst for power. How could I love a man weaker than myself?” 

JJ dropped her spoon-wielding hand to her side and pouted. “Why is your character so mean?”

“I didn’t write the script, babe.”

Huffing, JJ glanced at her lines. A deep frown found purchase on her brow. “Wait, we’re lovers in this, right?”

“That’s right.”

“So why do I stab you at the end of this scene? That’s not right. I would never stab you. I’m in love with you.”

“Yeah, but I’m using you to kill all my enemies so that I can rise to power. This is the scene where you realise that.”

“I wouldn’t mind. I’d kill all your enemies in a heartbeat. Why does that matter?”

Yaz chuckled. “Just read the lines, will you?”

“Fine,” JJ grumbled, lowering the script. “You think my weakness is love. Maybe so. But yours has always been yourself, princess. Your...your…”

“You can say it.”

“But I’ll feel bad.”

“Jamie.”

“...Your ugliness. Something rotten lives within you. Doesn’t it make you ill? Doesn’t it bring you to your knees nightly? And for other men, I might add.”

JJ cringed at that. 

“It’s just pretend,” assured Yaz. 

“I know, I know. Still…” JJ tightened her grip on the spoon’s handle. “You have never cared for me, love. But I care for you, and I care to destroy your greatest foe. Understand that I do this to save your soul. Understand that I do this out of love.”

Yaz moved closer; perilously close to the smooth edge of JJ’s pretend sword. “You would do that for me?”

“It is as you said: I need your royal blood.” JJ regarded the spoon. This, supposedly, was the knight’s cue to murder the princess, but JJ couldn’t even bring herself to pretend to harm Yaz. 

Still, Yaz was waiting for her to do _something._

“Uh… stab.”

Yaz rolled her eyes. “You’re not meant to say it, you’re just meant to do it.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s in the bloody script.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I thought you were meant to be helpin’ me rehearse?” challenged Yaz. “Just do it, Jamie. Stab me.”

“But—“

Impatient, Yaz grabbed JJ’s hand and yanked it towards her stomach, stabbing herself with the spoon in the process. JJ gasped at the same time as Yaz did. 

Rationally, JJ knew it was only a spoon and that no real damage could be done. Irrationally, when Yaz began to splutter, when her face went slack and her jaw trembled and her knees gave out, JJ fretted that somehow she’d actually impaled her on the spoon. She went so far as to check it hadn’t been sharpened since she last used it. 

“Yaz, you’re still acting, right?” fretted JJ. 

Yaz collapsed and JJ caught her, lowering her gently to the ground and resting her head on her lap. There were lines JJ was supposed to be reciting, something poetic about justice and vengeance and love and betrayal, but Yaz was putting on such a convincing show that all JJ could do was tell herself, over and over and over again, that it wasn’t real. Yaz was fine. She wasn’t dying. 

“Yaz, I don’t like this,” blurted JJ. “You’re too good at it. Can we stop?

Yaz’s eyes fell closed. She died in JJ’s arms. 

“Ladybird?” 

JJ tapped Yaz’s cheek. She couldn’t even make out the rise and fall of her chest. Panicking, she held two fingers to her pulse point. Nothing. Wrong place? She moved her fingers. Still nothing. Where was the bloody pulse point? 

“Yaz!” 

Yaz erupted into laughter in the manner of someone who’d been holding it back for a while. Blowing out her cheeks, JJ slumped back against the sofa and clutched her chest. Her heart was thudding something vicious. 

“I can’t believe you just did that,” she breathed. 

“Babe, you didn’t actually think you’d killed me with a wooden spoon, did you?” 

“You’re not allowed to do that again,” JJ instructed. “Bloody well almost had a heart attack. Your acting’s way too believable.”

“Sorry, babe,” apologised Yaz, sitting upright and allowing JJ to pull her into her side and wind her arm around her. She smiled when JJ pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You’re too soft for your own good, you are.”

“Not soft,” denied JJ. “I just don’t ever wanna picture you like that. It makes me sad.”

Yaz dropped her eyes; studied her hands. “I know. You never wanna see me hurtin’, do you?”

“Never. When you hurt, I hurt.”

“Right,” Yaz muttered.

“But I can help you rehearse another scene, if y’like? Maybe one of the ones where I get to kiss you. I like those ones the best.”

“Nah,” sighed Yaz, resting her head on JJ’s shoulder. “Can we just sit here for a bit?”

JJ squeezed Yaz’s shoulder. “‘Course we can, ladybird. Is everythin’ okay?”

Tracing whorls and spirals on JJ’s kneecap, Yaz nodded solemnly; unconvincingly. 

“Did you speak to ‘em today?” wondered JJ. 

“They called.”

“And?”

“Same old,” shrugged Yaz. “They didn’t even bring up the fact that it’s been over a year since I’ve seen ‘em. I thought they might have said somethin’ when they rang, but it’s like… it’s just so awkward. It’s like none of us can get past the small talk and speak about what’s actually goin’ on.”

Since Christmas, Yaz and her family had been in contact nearly every day. New Year’s Eve marked the official one year anniversary of the last time she saw her parents; it had been a tough day for her. 

Yaz got a lot drunker than she’d allowed herself to in a while, and it had taken a lot of coaxing, on JJ’s part, to surmise the reason. 

Now, two weeks later, not much had changed. She talked to her parents without really talking to them, and every conversation only ever seemed to leave her feeling more and more hopeless. 

“I think they’re pissed that I didn’t come up and see ‘em. Kept goin’ on about how they had the whole family ‘round for the new year and that I should’ve been there. Said everyone kept askin’ why I wasn’t there.”

“But you explained that you’re busy with work, right? I mean, this play’s demandin’ a lot of your time. Surely they understand?”

“I dunno. I told ‘em I’d come up when I’m done with this production, but they think I’m just makin’ excuses. Who knows? Maybe I am.” Yaz laughed bitterly. “Not like I’m exactly lookin’ forward to it. All the shit I never got to say. The shit they never got to say. The anger. I just feel like it’s all gonna explode and we’ll be left even worse off than we were before. If that’s possible.”

“What if I came with you?” proposed JJ. “Might help if you had a buffer. And if you didn’t want me in the room, I could stay someplace nearby. Just in case things went south.”

“When do you even have the time lately?” grumbled Yaz. “You’ve been workin’ so much, I hardly ever see you.”

JJ frowned down at Yaz. “C’mon, Yasmin, that’s not fair. I explained this. We’ve undertaken a huge project. All hands on deck. As soon as I’m done with it, things’ll be back to normal. I promised you, didn’t I? Minute I’m free, I’m gonna take some time off and spend it all with you. We can do whatever you like, yeah? Go away. Stay here. See your fam. Whatever.”

Yaz didn’t react. Not even slightly. 

JJ deflated. 

“Tell me what you’re thinkin’, ladybird,” she murmured against Yaz’s crown. 

The clock on the wall ticked off thirty agonising seconds before Yaz uttered a quiet, “You said you’d be my summer.”

Guilt drove through JJ’s chest like a sword through flesh. 

This time, the hurt was real. 

“Is it that bad?” worried JJ. “I didn’t realise. You said you’d tell me when things got worse. If I need to take some time off—“

“It’s not. You don’t.”

“Yasmin…”

Lifting her head, Yaz cupped JJ’s neck and kissed her. She held JJ against her mouth for a long moment; with a soft exhale through her nostrils, she let her go. JJ thought the kiss to be a touch bittersweet. 

“I’m fine, babe. Just bein’ selfish, that’s all,” Yaz claimed. “I miss you when you’re not around. Can’t help it.”

“I’m tryna be there, Yaz. I really am.”

“I know.”

“Am I not doin’ enough? I ordered a bunch of those light therapy lamps last night. And some lava lamps. And a couple of salt lamps. I even ordered a funky little lamp that looks like a frog. Just wait, this place is gonna be positively dazzlin’ pretty soon. Bright enough to blind the sun. And how about we paint the walls this weekend? A nice, sunny shade. Pick whichever colour you want and we’ll do it. We should have done it weeks ago, eh? That’s my bad. I’m sorry.”

Yaz laughed, incredulous. “Babe, you have literally nothin’ to be sorry for. All you ever do is everythin’ you can. I know that. Just ignore me, okay? I’m bein’ moody for no reason.”

Tilting Yaz’s face toward her, JJ searched her for signs of distress or deceit. “Look me in the eye and tell me there’s nothin’ more to it.”

An effortless, close-lipped smile lifted Yaz’s features. “There’s nothin’ more to it.”

Convincing, JJ thought. 

But so was every performance Yaz gave. 

Still, in the days that followed, JJ did whatever she could to fend off Yaz’s dark days. Package after package arrived for them, all containing the excess of lamps JJ had purchased with the sole intent of banishing every shadow from her apartment. 

Light therapy lamps lit up the bedroom, lava lamps created an otherworldly ambience of pinks and blues and greens in the living room, salt lamps made the kitchen and bathroom look like a set on a low-budget sci-fi movie, and the frog lamp found a home in the foyer. 

True to JJ’s word, they painted the walls a calm shade of orange. That was a nice evening. 

They had beer and pizza and got paint all over their clothes following a reckless paint fight, which ended with the two of them showering the marigold from their hair and skin and calling a ceasefire beneath the steaming hot water. 

That was one of the last good days they had. 

The change didn’t happen all at once, but it felt like that to JJ, if only because the signs were all so subtle until they weren’t. 

Maybe if JJ hadn’t been working so much, she could have anticipated it; got out ahead of it. She’d have noticed, sooner than she did, the gradual shift in Yaz’s behaviour. 

She’d have known she needed help. 

It didn’t sink in for JJ until she worked from home one weekend while Yaz stayed over. JJ caught herself counting the forkfuls Yaz actually brought to her mouth when they ate together upon noticing how she pushed her food around the plate and picked it all apart to give the appearance that she’d eaten more than she had. Yaz moved slow, moved less, talked slow, talked less. She slept in late and napped during the day and got tired early in the evenings. Sometimes, it felt like JJ was living with a ghost. 

At one point, whilst held up on a long phone call at the dining table, she watched Yaz slump on the sofa and stare at the TV without moving for two hours. It wasn’t even turned on. 

Concerned, JJ carried her phone and laptop to the settee, set up right beside Yaz, and stroked her hair while she worked. 

Yaz allowed this for about an hour. 

After that, she finally forced herself to her feet—only to skulk towards the bedroom and hide under the covers for the rest of the night. When JJ tried to tempt her out for food or conversation, Yaz said she wasn’t well. A dodgy stomach, she called it. 

It was the same excuse she used for the rest of the week. 

JJ started to lose sleep. 

When she got restless at night, she’d spend hours researching Yaz’s symptoms. It wasn’t a virus or a mystery illness she’d contracted—JJ didn’t have to refer to Google to know that had been a lie. In fact, JJ already knew what it was, because Yaz had warned her once about exactly this. What she didn’t know was how to help; how to broach it with Yaz.

JJ had tried, on a few occasions, to talk about it. Every time she brought up the radical change in Yaz’s mood, however, Yaz would act like she had no idea what JJ was referring to. 

She’d climb on JJ’s lap, or cuddle her, or kiss her, and her sudden displays of thoughtless content would be so incontestable that JJ would briefly wonder if she really had been making the whole thing up. That was the problem with dating an actor. 

Other times, Yaz would become unpredictably abrasive when JJ suggested there was anything wrong; she’d claim up and close herself off. Deathly afraid of being pushed away, JJ decided giving Yaz space was the best way forward. She didn’t want her to feel boxed in or watched, so she devised a new approach to letting Yaz know she cared; that she was thinking about her. 

In the mornings, when she was preparing to leave for work and Yaz was still in bed, JJ would brew Yaz a fresh mug of her favourite coffee and leave it on the nightstand for her. 

She’d go for her run extra early so that she could swing by the local café and buy breakfast for Yaz. Every time, she’d bring home a different item on the menu for her to try: sandwiches, bagels, wraps, paninis, cakes, muffins, pastries. Anything to get her to eat. 

JJ had also taken to leaving small, handwritten notes around the apartment where Yaz would find them. Tacked to the bathroom mirror or the inside of the cupboard door, stuck to the fridge with a magnet or lying on the empty pillow beside Yaz; between the pages of her books, in her sock drawer, slipped into the pockets of her clothes. 

They’d say, I’m missing you already.

They’d say, You’re beautiful inside and outside and upside down.

They’d say, Thank you for existing beside me. 

They’d say, I love you. I love you. I love you no matter what.

Don’t you ever forget. 

By the time JJ would return home, the notes were gone and Yaz never mentioned them. She remained entirely aloof. 

Conversely, JJ’s concern continued to fester like an infected wound—as deep as it was gruesome; as agonising as it was untreatable. Yaz wasn’t responding to abruptness and she wasn’t responding to distance. Large gestures didn’t work. Small gestures didn’t work. The household grew sicker, like a ward for the terminally ill. No colourful lamps or clementine walls could fend off this particular strain of unease. 

Initially, the only time Yaz left JJ’s place was for work. JJ was surprised she even managed that—half-expecting her to bail on the opening night of her production—but she showed up, and she smashed it, and JJ instigated a standing ovation.

Then Yaz decided she wanted to go home. 

“What d’you mean, you wanna go home?” JJ asked as the two of them exited the theatre onto the lamplit high street. The car JJ had booked was waiting for them right outside. “Home as in my home?”

“No. My flat.”

Stopping just before the car, JJ turned to Yaz, mystified. “Oh. But… I mean, you hardly ever stay there. I thought it bummed you out? Besides, we should be celebratin’! You just killed it up there!”

Head ducked and hands pocketed, Yaz shrugged at the pavement. “Not really in the mood. Plus, I’ve gotta see my landlord about somethin’ and, y’know, my place is closer to the theatre. Be easier for me to get to work tomorrow if I just stay there.”

“I guess,” drawled JJ. “I can come with, if y’like?”

“Nah, you don’t wanna stay in a dump like that,” dismissed Yaz. 

“I’ve stayed in places far worse.” JJ reached for Yaz’s wrist; pulled her hand out of her pocket and held it tight. “Lemme come with you. No point spendin’ the night alone when you don’t have to, is there? And then I can just book a car to take you to work tomorrow. You left yours at mine, remember?”

Yaz squeezed her eyes shut. It was only a second but, for its duration, JJ witnessed her frustration plain and clear. 

“Thing is,” Yaz muttered, reclaiming her hand and returning it to her jacket pocket, “I might stay a little bit longer than one night.”

JJ cocked her head. “Two nights?”

Toeing an uneven slab of pavement, Yaz kept her eyes low and said nothing. 

“Baby,” sighed JJ, closing the distance between them and wrapping her hands around Yaz’s elbows, “please talk to me.”

“There’s nothin’ to talk about,” denied Yaz. “I don’t live with you. Not yet. That flat’s my home. Is it really so weird that I’d wanna stay there?”

“Kind of, yeah. You hate it there.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Isn’t the hot water busted?”

“I’ll get it fixed.”

“And the door? It doesn’t even lock properly.”

“I’ll call someone.”

“Or you can just stay with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Like I said, I’ve gotta speak to my landlord.”

“But after—“

“We’re goin’ around in circles, babe,” Yaz cut in. “That’s enough, okay? I’m goin’ home. It’s nothin’ personal, I just need… I just need a bit of space for a few days. Understand?

“No,” answered JJ. “No, Yaz, I don’t understand. Have I done somethin’ wrong? Is that why you’ve been so…”

Yaz glared at JJ. “So, what?”

“Far away.”

“I haven’t.”

“You have, actually, and I don’t know why. I don’t know what’s causin’ this. So, is it me?” JJ lowered her voice to a tremble. “Is it us?”

Stepping up to JJ with a melancholy sigh, Yaz cupped her face in her cold hands and said, with total conviction, “I love you to death, Jamie. You know that. That’s never gonna change.”

“Then why—“

“Can that be enough? Please? I love you. Can that just be enough for now?” entreated Yaz. “Nothin’ else really matters, does it?”

“‘Course it does,” muttered JJ. “There’s somethin’ in your eye, Yaz, and it’s makin’ me so sad.”

“Then stop lookin’.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

JJ wilted. “You’re really gonna leave it like this?”

“I’ll only be halfway across the city from you. You’re actin’ like I’m runnin’ away.”

“Aren’t you?”

Yaz extended a barely-there smile: a fissure cracking her tired face open and letting out all of the emptiness. But how could JJ fix such a gaping hole? What could she try that she hadn’t already? 

“You gonna kiss me goodbye or not?” challenged Yaz. 

JJ chewed the inside of her cheek. “Take the car, yeah? I’ll book another for myself.”

“I’ll just get an Uber.”

“No, you won’t,” asserted JJ. “Take the car. I wanna make sure you get home okay.”

“Babe—“

“I’m not actually askin’, Yaz.”

Yaz lifted a brow. “Okay, fine. I’ll take the car,” she scoffed, stepping around JJ and marching towards the car door. 

Before she could reach it, JJ jogged ahead and opened it for her. Yaz climbed inside with a terseley uttered thanks. Upon closing the door, JJ leaned in through the open window, resting her chin on her forearms and studying Yaz while she relayed her address to JJ’s driver. 

Yaz eyed her as she buckled her belt. “Just a few days, okay? I won’t be gone long.”

JJ held out one of her hands and Yaz took it in both of hers. She proceeded to press her lips to each of JJ’s knuckles in turn. Every gentle kiss might as well have been a hammer to the bone: splintering, breaking, maiming, crushing. When Yaz let go of her hand, it was covered in bruises that only JJ could see. 

“I love you so much, Yaz,” she professed, and kissed her on the mouth. 

That was painful, too. That left her broken, too. 

Farewell kisses were always the worst.

“I’ll still come by to watch you perform tomorrow, if that’s okay?” asked JJ. 

“‘Course it’s okay.”

Stroking Yaz’s cheek, JJ nodded solemnly. “You know I’m on your side, don’t you, ladybird? I’m only ever on your side.”

Yaz turned her face to kiss the inside of JJ’s wrist, where an aching pulse sang only for her. 

“Goodbye, Jamie,” said Yaz. 

_But why is it?_ thought JJ. _Why is it goodbye?_

JJ became inundated by the desperate urge to yank the door open, climb inside, and refuse to let Yaz leave without her until they addressed the elephant in the room. 

But Yaz looked tired. 

God, Yaz looked so tired. 

There was no justification, in JJ’s eyes, for holding her back any longer when she looked so close to collapse already. She wished she could be the arms to catch her; resented the cold, empty mattress that would take her place that night. Unfortunately, that was Yaz’s wish. 

JJ let her go. 

As the car pulled away from the kerb, she called, “I’ll see you at all your shows! I promise!”

It was a promise JJ would be forced to break. 

* * *

“I’m so, so sorry I can’t be there right now.”

“ _Doesn’t matter_.”

“It does matter. I know it does. It’s your final performance, tonight. I should be there.”

“ _You’ve been to every single one so far. It’s fine_.”

“You understand, don’t you? I wouldn’t have left if I didn’t have to. One of our Japanese investors was nervous about—“

“ _I understand. You’re a businesswoman, JJ. You’ve got business to do. It’s more important than a stupid play_.”

“It’s not stupid, Yaz, it’s your work. It’s equally as important.”

“ _Yeah, well_.”

“Are you nervous?”

“... _How is it? How’s Japan_?”

“Miserable, ladybird. It’s miserable without you here. All I keep thinkin’ about is our first trip together, when I took you to Tokyo. We had fun, didn’t we?”

“ _Yeah. We did._ ”

“Did you get the flowers I sent?”

“ _I did. And I also got the food you keep sending for some reason_.”

“I just wanna make sure you’re eatin’ okay. You’ve not stayed with me in almost a fortnight and—“

“ _You think I can’t take care of myself_?”

“Are you? Takin’ care of yourself? It’s just, you’re lookin’ a little slimmer these days. Every time I see you up on that stage, your face gets skinnier.”

“ _You’re havin’ a go at me about my weight, now_?”

“You know very well I couldn’t care less about that—just so long as you’re healthy. That’s my primary concern, Yaz. It’s my _only_ concern. Just you. Why do you always make that out to be such a crime?”

“' _Cause you’re actin’ like my mum instead of my girlfriend_."

“Yeah, well maybe that’s what you need.”

“ _Oh, really? You know what? Enjoy Japan, Jamie. I’ll see you when I see you_.”

“No, wait, Yaz—“

“Yaz? Hello?”

“Are you there?”

“Fuck!”

* * *

JJ was home the following afternoon. 

She flew back earlier than planned, entrusting Jack to tie up any loose ends (which mainly consisted of sweet talking, brown nosing, and partying with the investors to keep them on their side. Jack had always been better at that side of business anyway). 

Yaz hadn’t been in touch since their call. JJ called when the play was meant to have finished, she called when she thought Yaz would have been due to arrive home, she called when she probably would have been sleeping, she called in the morning, she called before her flight, and she called when she landed. 

She still had her phone in her hand when she stepped out of the elevator into her penthouse, and was just about to hit redial when—

“JJ?”

JJ’s head snapped up. Her origami heart folded in on itself. 

Padding over to her, from the direction of the bedroom, was Yaz: hair a tangled mess, yesterday’s stage makeup still clinging to her skin (if smudged and streaked), eyes sunken, JJ’s hoodie and sweats hanging from her frame. 

“Yasmin?” 

Abandoning her suitcase and slipping her phone back into her pocket, JJ strode across the apartment toward Yaz. She wrapped her hands around Yaz’s elbows and looked her up and down in disbelief. 

“What are you doin’ here?” asked Yaz. 

“What are _you_ doin’ here?” parried JJ. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

For the first time, Yaz seemed to remember the state she was in. Self-conscious, she looked down at herself and buried her chin in JJ’s hoodie. 

“'M’sorry, I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“I’ve been callin’ nonstop.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you pick up? I were worried sick.”

Yaz bit down on her quivering lower lip and turned away, running her hands through her matted hair. 

“I messed up,” she croaked.

“What?”

“The play. Last night. I messed it up. Kept gettin’ my lines wrong and missin’ my cue. I don’t even know why!” Frustrated, Yaz threw her hands up. “I know that bloody thing off by heart. I could read my lines back to front and in alphabetical order. How the hell did I mess it up?”

“Oh, Yaz,” murmured JJ, placing her hand on Yaz’s shoulder, “that’s okay. These things happen. People make mistakes. You don’t have to be so hard on yourself. Every single other performance you did was immaculate.”

“Nobody remembers when you do things right. They only remember your fuck-ups,” Yaz grumbled, shaking JJ’s hand off her and trudging toward the living room. She fell heavily onto the sofa. 

JJ sat down beside her. “Is it because I wasn’t there? I’m sorry, Yaz, I shouldn’t have gone. If you’d asked me to stay, I would have.”

“It’s not you.” Yaz pulled her knees up to her chest and hid her face in them. “It’s me. I’m rubbish. I’m bloody rubbish. I let _everyone_ down. The cast. The crew. The audience. I’m such a bloody fuck up. Christ, no one’s ever gonna wanna cast me again.”

“Oi,” JJ scolded softly. “None of that is true, Yasmin. Not one word of it. You’re got talent comin’ out of your ears, and the whole world knows it. If they start to forget, you’ll remind ‘em. That’s what you do.”

Yaz’s voice came out muffled when she said, “What if I don’t even care?”

Pursing her lips, JJ crouched down in front of Yaz and peered up at her between her knees. She wanted to reach out and touch her, but she decided not to risk being brushed off again. 

“Can you look at me?” JJ prompted gently. 

“No.”

“Yaz…”

Sighing, Yaz lifted her head begrudgingly, as if it weighed a tonne and took a great deal of effort just to hold up high. 

“What is it you’re always doin’ for me when I start to doubt myself?” posed JJ. “You remind me who I am. So, allow me to return the favour, because you’re the strongest person I know, okay? You’re a fighter through and through. You’re Yasmin. Bloody. Khan.”

“But that doesn’t _mean_ anythin’. That name’s not worth a thing.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“You really believe that?”

The muscles in Yaz’s cheeks flexed and she turned her glassy eyes toward the sky, blinking rapidly. “I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry. I’m just gonna go home.”

Yaz pushed off the sofa. JJ scrambled up after her. 

“No, hang on a minute,” urged JJ, blocking Yaz’s path and standing in her way. “Why _did_ you come here? If you thought I wouldn’t be here, why come?”

Burying her hands into the pouch of JJ’s hoodie, Yaz shrugged. “Thought I’d sleep better if I came here. It just… it smells like you. The bed. Your clothes. And I missed you, so.”

“I missed you, too,” confessed JJ. “I’ve _been_ missin’ you. For a while.” 

Yaz studied a dormant lava lamp on the coffee table without a word. JJ swept her eyes across her penthouse; none of the lights or lamps were on, the blinds were half down, and the bedsheets were creased. She resisted a sigh. 

“Can I at least give you a hug?” JJ implored. 

“I’m fine.”

“So you say. But maybe I’m not.”

Yaz lifted her eyes. “Because of me?”

“Because I’m startin’ to forget what it even feels like to hold you, and that’s not okay. Do you think that’s okay?”

“No,” muttered Yaz. 

“No. So come here. Please.”

Head ducked, Yaz shuffled into JJ’s waiting arms and wound her arms around her. Where Yaz’s embrace was weak, JJ had never held on tighter. She squeezed her eyes shut and clutched at her clothes. Their bones rubbed together with every breath; JJ started to wish she could climb in between Yaz’s ribs and live there among her vital organs—because she was missing one. 

Her lungs sapped oxygen from each of her brittle breaths, her heart resignedly beat life through her veins, but where was the organ that willed them all to keep working? Where was the organ that filtered out her fatal woes and purified her blood of deadly melancholia? 

If only JJ could be that for her. 

If only Yaz would let her. 

“Y’know, my parents asked about you this mornin’,” JJ revealed, in hopes that it might reassure Yaz to know that others were thinking of her. 

What she didn’t say was that she’d called them in a fit of panic before her jet took off because of the numerous unanswered calls, locked in the bathroom where she retched up all of her breakfast—in part due to pre-flight nerves; in part due to her worry for Yaz. What she didn’t say was that River had been genuinely concerned for Yaz’s health when JJ disclosed the details of their circumstance, and that River’s concern only exacerbated her own tenfold. 

What she did say was, “So many people care about you, Yaz. More than you even know.”

Yaz went still in JJ’s arms. Stiff as a rock. 

“They ask about me?”

“Every time I call. They wanted to know how you were doin’. Said you’re always welcome down there. Always.”

“Why?” breathed Yaz. 

JJ frowned. “What d’you mean, why?”

“Why is _your_ family…. and mine doesn’t even…” Voice tight, Yaz pulled away from JJ. Her eyes were bitter and dark like the last dregs of coffee. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Yaz,” fretted JJ, wringing her hands now that they no longer held Yaz. “I thought it’d cheer you up. God, why do I never know the right things to say, eh?”

“No, really, I appreciate it, babe,” assured Yaz. “I just—I just—sorry, I need to use the bathroom.”

Yaz charged past JJ and headed straight to the bathroom, oblivious of, or unbothered by, the fact that JJ was following a few steps behind. The door closed before JJ could get to it. 

She reached for the handle. Stopped. Thought better of it and started to pace back and forth outside the door. Her pacing only came to a halt when she heard the faucets running; when she noticed that they’d been running for a while. 

“Yaz?”

JJ pressed her ear to the wood. If she listened hard enough, she thought she could make out Yaz’s laboured breathing and subdued sniffling. She took a step back. 

Through the gap at the bottom of the door, the light was obscured by a shadow. 

Crouching down, JJ pressed her palm to the grain. “Yaz, what’s goin’ on? Please. You don’t have to hide from me.”

“I’m okay,” choked Yaz. “Just gimme a minute.”

“You’re cryin’.”

“I’m not.”

Hands curling into fists, JJ thudded her forehead against the door and closed her eyes. “What do you think’s gonna happen, Yaz? If you open the door? If you let me in? What do you think’s gonna happen?”

The water kept on running. Yaz was silent. 

“You think I’d judge you, is that it?” JJ ploughed on. “Or is it somethin’ else? Is there somethin’ you’re scared to tell me?”

JJ dreaded to think of what that might be; it was a cold, dead dread that stunk like a corpse and rotted inside of her. 

_Don’t you love me anymore?_

_Was I too much? Was I not enough?_

_Why am I not the person you trust to fall apart in front of?_

_I could be your vital organ—the one you’re lacking. Why don’t you let me? Why don’t you ask? Why don’t you want me to save you?_

It was some time before the water stopped running and Yaz opened the door. 

Clambering to her feet, JJ came face to face with Yaz’s red eyes and suddenly bare complexion. She must have hastily scrubbed last night’s makeup from her skin. It was blotchy underneath; lacking it’s usual glowing depth. 

“Yaz,” said JJ.

She didn’t get to say any more than that. 

Yaz shoved JJ against the wall and kissed her. Sort of. It wasn’t so much a kiss as it was Yaz gracelessly crushing her lips against JJ’s. She tasted like tears, like falsities; like a cry for help. 

The shock of Yaz’s unprecedented ambush delayed JJ’s reaction. She didn’t push Yaz away, nor did she part her lips to allow for escalation. Her eyes grew sad and heavy while she watched the love of her life screw her eyes shut and hide her heartache in a distraught kiss. 

“Wait,” JJ panted when Yaz honed in on her throat. “Yaz, what are you doin’?”

“What does it look like?” Yaz challenged. Her voice was hoarse and jagged and it curdled like bad milk in JJ’s gut. 

“ _Yasmin_.”

JJ’s neck was wet but Yaz wasn’t kissing her. With a violent lurch of her stomach, JJ realised she was sobbing silently against her skin, hands fisted in her shirt and shoulders shaking. 

“Look, why don’t we take a breather?” JJ proposed desperately. “Can I make you some tea? Food?”

“Not hungry.”

Without lifting her head, Yaz dropped her hands to JJ’s belt and attempted to unbuckle it. JJ yanked her wrists away; held fiercely onto them. 

“Yaz, stop. I mean it.”

Yaz looked so incredibly young when she looked up then. She looked like a scolded child, helped none by the fresh tears streaming with abandon down her marked cheeks or the way her bottom lip trembled. 

“You don’t wanna have sex with me?” she quivered. 

“What kind of person would I be if I had sex with you while you were cryin’ into my collar? Christ, Yaz, you’re scarin’ the shit out of me. Look at you.”

The moment JJ loosened her grip on Yaz’s wrists, she slipped them free of her caged fingers and stepped back. 

“I just missed you.”

“Bullshit.”

“What, I’m not allowed to miss my girlfriend?”

“That’s not what this is and we both know it.” JJ pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “Yaz, I’ve just had a really long flight, and my head’s all fuzzy, and you’re not makin’ things any clearer. I think we both could use some rest, don’t you?”

Hard-faced all of a sudden, Yaz shrugged indifferently. “I’m not tired.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I might go for a run, actually.” Yaz wiped her tears with the sleeve of JJ’s hoodie; composed herself remarkably fast. “Could use the fresh air.”

JJ gritted her teeth. “Fine. I’ll join you.”

“Like you said, babe, you’re jet lagged. I don’t think goin’ for a run’s a very good idea.”

JJ stared long and hard at Yaz. Yaz stared right back, unflinching, unblinking; unswervable. It was JJ who crumbled first. Of course it was. She didn’t want to fight with Yaz; she never wanted that. 

Her shoulders sagged. She sighed. 

“You’ll come back?” JJ asked. 

“I’ll come back.”

“You’ll stay?”

“For tonight.” 

“Okay.” Exhaustion bore down on JJ like a devil on her back. She didn’t bother trying to shake him off. “I’m gonna take a nap.”

Yaz smiled. “Good idea. You look shattered, babe.”

Then, as if she hadn’t just broken down into the crook of JJ’s neck, Yaz endowed her with a breezy kiss on the cheek and glided toward the bedroom to change. 

Dead on her feet, JJ staggered behind her and slumped backwards onto the foot of the bed with a yawn. She held her tongue when Yaz undressed beside her; opted not to mention how her bones swam so close to the surface of her skin when she stretched to remove her hoodie, or how tightly she had to pull the drawstring of her shorts so they wouldn’t slip from her narrowing hips. 

“It’s wet outside,” said JJ. “If you’re goin’ to the park, stick to the main paths. Don’t want you slippin’.”

Yaz crouched down to tie her trainers. “Will do.” 

“And there’s some kinda construction goin’ on along Compton Avenue, so you may wanna avoid it.”

“Okay.”

“Also—“

“Jamie, I’m goin’ for a run, not to war. I think I can manage.”

JJ propped herself up on her elbows. “I were just gonna say I love you. Is that allowed?”

Rising to her feet, Yaz turned to the wardrobe mirror and pulled her hair back into a pony without supplying an answer. She eyed JJ in the reflection. 

“You gonna be able to sleep?” she asked. 

JJ supposed that was Yaz’s way of telling her she loved her, too, but couldn’t fathom why she wouldn’t just say the words. She slumped back down onto the bed with a huff.

“Defo,” she replied—but only because she’d hardly slept a wink for weeks and it was finally catching up to her. 

“Okay. Well, I won’t be long,” promised Yaz, making her way toward the bedroom steps. 

“Please don’t be.”

Yaz halted with her foot on the first stair. Hesitant, she looked over her shoulder at JJ. Not for the first time, JJ was afforded a glimpse of the senseless war raging inside of her. 

Dark and bloody, to be sure. 

Lonely, too, but it didn’t have to be. 

If Yaz looked hard enough past the hail of bullets and smoke, she’d see JJ standing there behind her on the battlefield, waving her white flag and her first aid kit. 

If Yaz stopped marching for just a moment, JJ might catch up to her; might get close enough to stitch up her wounds, strap her to a stretcher, and carry her ailing body safely to armistice. 

If Yaz surrendered, JJ would nurse her until the shell-shock subsided. Or even if it never did. 

But she was too deep in the trenches. 

War was all she knew. 

When Yaz opened her mouth, JJ could have sworn she did so with greater intent. In the end, all she said was, “Make sure you change out of those clothes before you pass out.”

Like pulling a pin from a grenade. 

“Yeah,” JJ uttered. “Sure.”

Yaz disappeared a split second before the boom. 

* * *

A crash woke JJ from her nap. 

Jolting upright, it took her a moment to blink away the muddy sands of sleep and readjust to her surroundings in the grey-pink evening light. 

Yaz was home. 

_Ah, Yaz._

No, wait. Knee jerk reaction. JJ’s relief was true but all too transient. Not so ephemeral was the disquiet which took its place (or, rather, the disquiet which never left). 

JJ didn’t have time to dwell on how tragic it was that she couldn’t even force herself to be happy to see Yaz anymore. She didn’t have time because, after watching Yaz pick up a lamp she’d knocked over and cross the penthouse toward the living room, she noticed that she was limping. 

“Yaz?” JJ sprang out of bed and rushed over. 

“Relax, I’m okay,” dismissed Yaz, sinking onto the sofa with a grimace. Her forehead and neck shone with sweat; dark locks of loose hair were plastered to her face. She’d been going at it hard. 

“What happened?” fretted JJ, kneeling before Yaz and scanning her for obvious signs of injury. 

Yaz dried her face on the bottom of her shirt. “Think I overdid it a bit. It’s fine.”

“What hurts?”

“I said—“

“What hurts?”

Sighing, Yaz dropped her head against the back of the sofa. “My right ankle.”

Delicate as could be, JJ unlaced Yaz’s shoe, tugged it from her foot, and peeled off her sock. She pursed her lips.

“Looks a bit swollen. What did you do?”

“Dunno.”

“How long were you gone for?”

“Dunno.”

JJ checked her wristwatch. “ _Two hours_? Yaz, tell me you weren’t runnin’ that whole time.”

“Dunno.”

“You can’t push yourself like that. It’s insane. Even I don’t run for that long, and I do it almost every day. No wonder you hurt yourself. What on Earth got into you?”

Eyes glazed, Yaz stared at the ceiling. Her chest heaved in the wake of her overexertion. 

“It must have started to hurt, after a while,” remarked JJ. 

Yaz neither confirmed nor denied this.

“But you kept goin’ anyway. Knowin’ you were probably gonna injure yourself.”

Yaz neither confirmed nor denied this. 

“What, you just didn’t care? Or… or is that what you wanted? Christ, is that what you set out to do?”

The timbre of Yaz’s voice was exasperatingly monotonous when she stated a matter-of-fact, “I need to take a shower.”

She made as though to push herself off the sofa, but JJ stopped her with a hand at her chest. 

“No.”

Yaz looked down at JJ’s hand. She didn’t comment on it, or bat it away, she just looked through it like she didn’t even see it. Like she wasn’t even there. 

More pins pulled and landmines activated. How couldn’t Yaz see that JJ was taking just as many hits as she was? How couldn’t she see their bitter blood mixing in the red earth? 

She wanted to tell Yaz that she was hurting, too. She wanted to get angry and blame her. Tell her it was her fault. She wanted to cry, too. She wanted to break down, too. But, while Yaz was weak, JJ had to be the strong one. Selfless. A martyr. 

“Stay there,” she instructed. 

JJ left Yaz slumped on the sofa to dig a bag of frozen peas out of the freezer. When she returned, Yaz was still in that same identical position with nothing going on behind the eyes. 

She hardly even reacted when JJ manoeuvred her body sideways and lifted her wounded leg onto the sofa; didn’t offer any more than a negligible twitch of her lips when JJ applied the frozen peas to her ankle. She might as well have been sleeping with her eyes open. 

“Are you okay?” JJ asked.

She wasn’t expecting an answer, but one came nonetheless. 

“No,” Yaz whispered. “It hurts, Jamie. It really, really hurts.”


End file.
